


A Good Influence

by LadyLibby



Series: Last Ones Standing [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone (Walking Dead), Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Daryl Dixon Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Loss, Love, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Protective Daryl Dixon, Romance, Series Rewrite, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Zombie Apocalypse, season 5, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLibby/pseuds/LadyLibby
Summary: You and Beth Greene had always been inseparable, your bond only getting stronger as the world changes into something new and dangerous. But then, she was gone. Taken away from you before you could even say goodbye. Without her, surviving felt impossible– until you found yourself growing closer to a certain archer. With him, maybe, just maybe, you could learn to hope again.
Relationships: Aaron/Eric Raleigh, Daryl Dixon/Reader, Daryl Dixon/You, Maggie Greene/Glenn Rhee
Series: Last Ones Standing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894432
Comments: 65
Kudos: 174
Collections: on going fanfics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! I am back with new Daryl fic!!  
> I've spent the last few weeks writing this story and I am SO EXCITED to share it with you! I put a lot of time and love and myself into it, so I hope you like it <3
> 
> (I know things are quite sad to start with, but we've got a whole ten chapters to sort out our feelings, so strap in and enjoy the ride :D)

They say that in the moment before death, your entire life flashes before your eyes. 

But they never say what happens when that moment is the simple act of waking up in the morning. When you face death every day, there’s no sudden spotlight or lightning-fast highlight reel. 

It’s more like a strange sort of word association in your brain. One moment you’re going about your business, and then you see something or smell something and then you’re back  _ there _ or  _ they’re _ back  _ here _ and it’s all happening behind your eyes like the world’s worst private movie screening. 

Today it was a box of pads. Just a slightly trampled, dust-covered cardboard box filled with menstrual pads. 

The group had stopped in a small suburban neighborhood. The lead car was out of gas and the others were probably close to empty. Seemed as good a place as any to stop and see what you could scavenge. 

Rick, Daryl, and Carol were on gas duty, siphoning what they could. While various other splinter groups worked their way down each side of the long-abandoned cul-de-sac, Noah, Tara, and you were handling the houses at the end. 

The first two were picked through, with trash strewn across the floors and bloodstains on the walls. You each put in some time, but it wasn’t the kind of place you wanted to linger. 

The third proved more fruitful, the front door and most of the windows boarded up to discourage any less committed scavengers. But you were committed. You’d been out on the road too long not to be. 

The three of you found an opening and made it inside easy enough. The two walkers waiting for you were a bit more of a challenge, but they didn’t stop you. Once the bodies hit the floor and you’d wiped your knives clean, the three of you just stepped over them and started searching. 

You found the box in the upstairs bathroom, hidden in the bathtub under the fallen shower curtain. As you tore the box open and dropped the wrapped bundles of fabric into your backpack, you remembered. 

_ “Now, as long as it's clean and absorbent, it's a bandage. Even these.” Hershel held up one of the last remaining pads. “Of course, we don’t want to use these unless we have to.”  _

_ “They’re the best for covering the smell of the blood.” You nodded, “To keep the walkers away.”  _

_ “Exactly.” Hershel smiled. “Now, if the wound is too deep or someone gets bit on an arm or leg, you’ll want to make a tourniquet to stem the flow.”  _

_ You watched carefully as he demonstrated how to tie one, showing the best places on various body parts to stop bleeding. When it was your turn to practice, Hershel handed you the long piece of fabric scavenged from a house a while back.  _

_ Those days, everything you had came from scavenging. Your exit from the farm had been hasty and terrifying. One moment everyone was planning where you’d all sleep in the house during the cold months and the next it had all gone up in actual flames.  _

_ Before Rick’s people showed up, before the barn and the fire, Hershel hadn’t taken your requests to learn medicine very seriously. In the months following the turn, he’d still believed things would go back to normal. Annette and Shawn would be cured, you and Beth would finish school, head off to college, and life would return to normal.  _

_ When you asked Hershel to teach you about healing and medicine, he’d just brushed you off.  _

_ “We all have jobs to do, Y/N. You focus on your studies and the farm.”  _

_ But between your chores and your books, you asked Patricia to show you the basics. She did what she could, but she was hesitant to go behind Hershel’s back. You both were. Even though you were Beth’s closest friend, you were still a guest in their home.  _

_ Things changed on the road.  _

_ Everything was alarmingly real all of a sudden. You were never as optimistic as Hershel about things returning to normal, but you had no idea exactly how  _ **_harsh_ ** _ this new reality was. In the little bubble of the farm, you had a place. You had a job to do, and you did it.  _

_ Out on the road, you were a deadweight. You were young, you barely knew how to make a campfire, let alone fight. You were another body taking up space and another mouth to feed without anything to give back. And you hated it. So you were trying to be helpful, to become an asset rather than a burden.  _

_ Hershel saw that in you, and he took your lessons seriously.  _

_ “We may not have a moment like we did on that highway ever again.” He warned you once, as you were getting ready to sleep– everyone huddled together in an abandoned building. “I won’t always be with you. I see that now, and I need to know you’re prepared.”  _

_ “I will be.” You nodded solemnly.  _

_ “Daddy,” Beth frowned, propping herself up on her elbow. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. It sounds like you’re givin’ up.”  _

_“I promise I’m not giving up on you, my Beth. I want you to be prepared, but I pray every day that you’ll never_ ** _have_** _to be.” Hershel smiled, leaning down to give you each a kiss on the forehead. “Now try and get some rest.”_

_ You lay down, scooting closer to Beth under your threadbare blanket. Cuddling close together was how you and Beth stayed warm, but it also gave you a sense of security. Like if you shut your eyes you could pretend the two of you were camping out on the living room floor for a sleepover. It reminded you that no matter how hard it got, you still had each other. _

_ That was the other thing that changed after the farm. Somewhere in those long cold months of running and hiding and surviving, you stopped being a guest. These people, but especially the Greenes, became your family in a much deeper, more profound way than your parents ever had been. You would live and die for them without second-thought or hesitation.  _

_ And they would do the same for you.  _

“You find anything up here?” Tara’s voice in the doorway pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Yeah,” You cleared your throat, zipping up your backpack. “There was some aspirin left in the cabinet and I found pads.” 

“Sweet.” She nodded. “I grabbed some ammo and Noah found a box of granola bars under the sink.” 

“We should probably meet-up with the others.” You shouldered your backpack, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. 

“Hey,” Tara’s expression softened, concern etched into her features as she looked at you. “You good?” 

“Yeah.” The words sounded hollow, even to you. 

“Stupid question.” Tara sighed, before holding out her arms. “Want a hug?” 

For some reason, that made you feel worse. Your chest tightened as you felt tears welling up. 

“Um, maybe later?” You shrugged, hating the tremble in your voice.

Tara studied you, eyes knowing and sad. She’d lost her sister too, you remembered. 

“Okay. Let’s go find the others.”

The other groups had been about as successful as your own, returning with a few cans here and a handful of ammo there. At least the cars had enough gas for another few hours of driving. 

With your backpack tucked into the trunk, you piled back into the smaller car, or as you’d come to refer to it in your head: The Quiet Car. Carol was taking her turn at the wheel with Sasha in the passenger seat. You sat in the back, between Noah and Daryl. 

The five of you had driven together since you’d first arrived in Virginia and you stayed together after finding the remains of Noah’s home. After losing Tyreese. You didn’t have to talk to know that you were all struggling. You didn’t  _ want _ to talk. Not yet. And neither did the others. 

Carol followed Rick’s car around a long curve, the centripetal force shifting you towards Daryl, your shoulder bumping into his. 

“Sorry,” you murmured, pulling back from the contact. 

Daryl glanced at you, chewing on the side of his thumb. 

“S’fine.” He muttered, turning to stare out the window. 

You knew Daryl didn’t like to be touched. Ever since the beginning, he’d flinched and shifted away from physical contact. 

He was getting better, you’d thought. Everyone saw the way he embraced Carol after escaping Terminus. But then he and Carol were close. You weren’t. After nearly four years, you could count the number of conversations you and the archer have had on one hand. 

For a while there, you thought maybe you were becoming friends. He’d touched your shoulder back in the train car, brows furrowed at the sight of your injury. And then he’d sat with you in the church, offering his silent company when you’d been struggling to come back, to be  _ with _ everyone again. It was like he knew everything you’d been through by just looking at you.

But after Atlanta, Daryl went back to his old self– distant and withdrawn. You didn’t blame him. You’d changed too. 

Through the windshield, you caught sight of a slightly battered road sign:  _ “Washington D.C. - 120 miles.” _

Your thoughts wandered back to a time that felt so foreign it might as well have been another planet entirely. 

_ You were lying on Beth’s bed on a sunny, hot August day. She lay beside you, her legs propped up against the headboard while yours dangled off the opposite end of the bed.  _

_ You had your own bed now, the old guest room claimed as your own until graduation. But you’d just cluttered up the space with all your boxes of clothes and books, so Beth’s bed seemed much more inviting for a break from unpacking.  _

_ “I can’t believe we’re really roommates.” Beth giggled.  _

_ “I can’t believe your dad is letting me stay,” You smiled. “I’m going to owe him for the rest of my life.”  _

_ “Oh, stop it. He couldn’t be happier. He probably thinks that your presence alone will bring my grades up.” Beth dropped her voice then, attempting an impression of Hershel, “‘I like that Y/N, she’s a good influence on you, Bethy.’”  _

_ You laughed, “Well, he needs to realize you have more going for you than grades.” _

_ “Whatever,” Beth sighed, “He and Mom will get it once I’m famous anyway.”  _

_ “Exactly.” You chuckled. “You’ll take breaks from your worldwide tour to come and visit me, right?”  _

_ Beth hummed, putting on a face of faux-contemplation. “I think I can make time in my busy performance schedule for that.”  _

_ “Good.” You grinned.  _

_ Beth rolled over enough to poke you in the side, making you yelp and squirm away. She laughed at that, rolling back over onto her back.  _

_ “And we still have to take our road trip.” She said. “When you move to D.C. to be the National Librarian–”  _

_ “That’s not a real thing.”  _

_ “Whatever.” Beth waved you off, holding off another fit of giggles. “When you move to D.C., we’re taking a whole week to drive up there.” _

_ “With a detour to the outer banks so you can take beach pictures–”  _

_ “Of course.”  _

_ “You really want to drive all the way up there just to drop me off?” You asked, propping yourself up on your hand to look at her.  _

_ “Absolutely! You’re not getting to D.C. without me, missy.” Beth declared. _

_ “Wouldn’t dream of it.”  _

You closed your eyes against the memory, feeling the emotions welling up inside your chest again. Tilting your head back against the headrest, you tried to focus on the hum of the engine. After a few minutes in the quiet, just trying to breathe, your thoughts subsided and you slipped into unconsciousness. 

The sound of your name roused you from a dreamless sleep. 

“Y/N,” the voice rasped, “Ya gotta wake up.” 

You blinked, your eyes heavy and mind cloudy. You were leaning against someone, your head resting against their shoulder. They smelled like cigarettes and leather and something else you couldn’t quite place.

Sitting up, you turned your head, met with a pair of eyes the color of the Georgia sky. 

“Daryl,” your throat was hoarse from sleep. “How long was I out?” 

“Couple a’hours.” Daryl opened his door, and you realized the others weren’t in the car with you anymore. “Ran outta gas about ten minutes ago.” 

“Time to walk?”

Daryl nodded, a few pieces of hair falling across his eyes. Dimly, you realized this was the longest the two of you had spoken since...it was the longest the two of you had spoken in a long time. 

“Alright.” You set your jaw, sliding over to Noah’s vacated seat and opening the other door. “Let’s go.” 

~

You walked. That had become your existence. Just walking. You didn’t know where you were going, how long you’d been traveling, or if you’d ever stop. 

The train tracks stretched forever in front of you, and when you looked back, it was the same behind. All you saw were trees and train tracks. 

You’d forgotten where they were leading you. If you thought hard enough, you saw hazy images of a prison, a distant fire sending dark plumes of smoke into the sky, and the figures of people you thought you knew–an old man with a beard, a young couple, a girl with blonde hair, and an archer armed with a crossbow. 

But the thinking made you dizzy, so you stopped trying to remember. You walked instead. 

Minutes or hours or maybe days passed with the trees on either side of you. Then a woman appeared. Right in front of you. She didn’t jump out from the woods or approach from the other direction, she just appeared. 

Her hair was long and stringy, hanging in front of her face in knots and tangles. Her clothes were dirty and ripped–but familiar. You recognized the stained cable-knit sweater, green from a picture on the mantelpiece. 

“Mom?” Your voice sounded strange, cracking from weeks of silence. 

“Hi, sweetie.” She lifted her head, a cruel smile changing her face into someone else, someone desperate and starving and alone. 

She leapt at you, knife clutched in one hand while the other shoved you down to the ground. The blade sank into your left shoulder, tearing through skin and muscle as a sharp cry left your lips. 

In the blink of an eye, you were standing over her motionless body. Blood pooled beneath her head, matching the red now staining your knife. You sheathed the weapon, using your free hand to press down against your bleeding shoulder. 

Her pack had few supplies–an extra shirt, an empty water bottle, and several photographs bound together with string. You ripped the shirt and used it to bandage your shoulder. 

You left the photos in her palm before turning to continue down the tracks. 

But the tracks were gone. Instead, you looked up at a big white farmhouse. When you looked back at the ground behind you, the body had disappeared. 

“Y/N! Hurry, Daddy’s not breathing!” 

You turned towards the house again. Maggie stood on the porch, beckoning you towards her. You ran, following her inside and up the stairs into a prison cell block. A small group gathered by one cell. 

You pushed past them, falling to your knees beside the bed. Hershel lay on his back, motionless and pale. Pressing your fingers to his neck, you felt no pulse. 

You put your hand on his chest and pressed your other on top of it and began performing CPR. After the compressions, you gave him mouth to mouth. When he remained unresponsive, you started the compressions again. 

“He’s lost too much blood,” Someone behind you said. “His leg…” 

“Come on...” You whispered, bending down and breathing air into his lungs again. 

You sat back, watching your found father for a moment for signs of life. You were about to start the compressions one more time when Hershel gasped, eyes blinking rapidly. 

Relief spread through you. “Oh, thank–” 

Faster than you knew what was going on, someone else pushed their way into the cell– the Governor. He shoved you out of the way, your friends turning into strangers as they grabbed you and held you in place. The Governor raised Michonne’s katana and brought it down over the bed. 

You pushed and pulled against the hands on your arms, finally breaking free. But when you stumbled forward, you were somewhere else. 

The cell block was gone, replaced by a hot afternoon in Atlanta. Your boots hit the asphalt as you exited a fire truck, following Maggie and Glenn towards a hospital. 

Towards Beth. 

Everything felt slow, like the heat had turned the air to syrup and your legs to lead. Ahead, you saw Tyreese pushing Carol in a wheelchair. The new kid, Noah, followed. Then Rick, who was the first to see you. His eyes were dark, his face full of sadness. 

Your stomach dropped like a rock at the slow shake of his head. 

Then you saw her. 

Daryl held Beth in his arms as he staggered forward, her body limp. You couldn’t see her face, her head lolling away from you. Instead you saw the blood at the back of her head, the red bright and sickening against her blond hair. 

Maggie took off ahead of you, running in slow motion. She tripped, and you watched as Glenn grabbed her arms, lowered her to the ground with care. Maggie was crying, but you couldn’t hear it over the ringing in your ears. Daryl dropped down in front of them, Beth’s body slipping from his grip to lay on the pavement. 

You looked down at her. She looked different, pale and still, like a doll. Out there alone, you hadn’t let yourself believe she was alive. You hadn’t let yourself hope that  _ any  _ of them had survived. You couldn’t. 

Then the train car door had opened and you saw your family again. And then Noah and Daryl came and said she was alive. They  _ knew it _ . And you’d believed them. 

But she was gone before you’d even gotten her back. Beth was dead, just like that. 

Everything snapped back into focus. You felt your pulse pumping in every part of your body as your vision went red like the blood in her hair. Time sped back up as you turned towards the hospital. 

They had taken your sister from you and now they had to pay. You were going to kill them. Every last one of them. 

You made it about three steps before Daryl caught you, dragging you away from your mission. He held fast, even as your fists pounded against his chest, even as you screamed at him to  _ let you go. _

“Y/N,” Daryl’s voice sounded far away as you struggled against his hold. 

“ _ No.” _ You whimpered, pushing at his arms. 

“Dammit, Y/N,” He sounded clearer now, voice rumbling next to your ear. “ _ Wake up!” _

Your eyes snapped open, chest heaving as you broke through into consciousness. You sat up, the dark Virginia night surrounding you instead of the Atlanta sun. Still, your heart pounded against your ribs and you struggled to get your breathing under control. Your hands pressed against something warm and firm. 

“Hey,” Blinking, you focused on the archer’s voice in front of you. “S’just a dream.”

He squeezed your arms gently, dipping his head to meet your gaze. “Breathe, Y/N. Ya gotta breathe.” 

You nodded quickly, taking the air in through your nose and pushing it out your mouth. After a few cycles, your heart rate began to slow and you started to relax. Daryl watched carefully, waiting for the panic to leave your eyes. 

He let go, keeping his gaze on you as he shifted away slightly. You felt colder immediately, but you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t ask him to come back just because you were  _ scared.  _ You didn’t have the luxury of being scared. Besides, touching you for that long probably made his skin crawl. 

“Sorry,” You whispered, looking over the rest of the group, all sleeping on the forest floor beside you. 

Embarrassment filled your stomach. You were stronger than this, stronger than letting yourself get shaken by dreams. 

“S’fine.” Daryl rasped. 

“Thanks,” You glanced at him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “For, um…” 

“Yeah.” He nodded, chewing on the side of his thumb. “S’early, go back t’sleep.” 

A sudden flurry of images flashed in your mind–the woman on the tracks, Hershel’s blue lips, Beth’s body. Dread pooled in the pit of your stomach at the thought. You pressed your hand to your shoulder, over your newest scar, trying to push the dull ache away. 

“I’m good. I can take watch.” You offered. “You need sleep too.” 

Daryl’s gaze flicked to your shoulder, brows drawn together in concern. The look was gone as soon as it arrived, the archer turning his attention back to the dark forest. 

“Nah,” Daryl shrugged. “M’good.” 

You turned to look out into the darkness too. “Okay.”

And so, the two of you sat together – not talking, just existing – until the sun came up.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun beat down from above, the heat shimmering in the air all around you. The group continued to walk, trudging down the seemingly endless stretch of Virginia backroads. 

You couldn’t remember when it had last rained– two weeks ago, maybe longer. And three days had now passed since abandoning the cars. You hadn’t come across much of anything since, apart from empty road and walkers. Almost a month had gone by since Atlanta. 

Almost a month on the road. And you were starting to look like it. 

You barely remembered what Rick’s face looked like beneath his beard, you couldn’t picture Sasha’s smile or hear Abraham’s big bellowing laugh. You were all thinner, covered in a layer of dirt and stained with blood and sweat, weighed down by the memories of it all. 

You needed to find something soon, needed to find  _ somewhere _ soon. 

Next to you, Carl puffed out a tired sigh, shifting Judith to his other side. He looked tired. And older. Older than he should look at fifteen, the sheriff’s hat casting a dark shadow across his face.

Then again, you probably looked older than you were too. You certainly  _ felt  _ older than twenty. That seventeen-year-old moving into her friend’s family farm was long gone. And so was the bright-eyed little boy who’d been carried into that farmhouse by his father. 

You walked closer to him, grabbing your half-empty water bottle from the side pocket of your pack. 

“Hey,” You held out the bottle, gesturing towards Judith. “Trade you.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?” 

“You look like you need a hydration break.” You nodded, shaking the bottle to emphasize your point. “I can take Judith for a while.” 

“I don’t want to drink your water, Y/N.” Carl frowned. 

“I’m not blind or an idiot, Carl. I know you give your water to Judith.” 

He looked down at that, like you’d just called him out for stealing cookies from the jar on top of the fridge. 

“Don’t fight me on this,  _ kid _ .” You teased, “Because I could take you in half a second.” 

“ _ Fine. _ ” Carl sighed, “But stop calling me ‘kid.’” 

“Fine.” You agreed. 

The two of you moved off to the side, falling back long enough for you to secure Judith in your arms and Carl to take a swig of water. He smiled at you as you fell into step again, a flash of that long-lost little boy in his face. 

“For the record,” Carl said, “If we fought, I would win.” 

A few feet ahead of you, Michonne glanced over her shoulder, shooting Carl a look. “Sure you would.” 

“ _ Whatever _ .” 

Carl rolled his eyes, but he already looked lighter. The sight sent a pang of bittersweet emotion through your chest. You pressed a quick kiss to the top of Judith’s head, continuing to walk. 

There was a time when Carl would have been right. Back at the prison, in the early days, he would have beat you in the blink of an eye. 

After Hershel lost his leg and you saved his life, you’d earned your place in the group. It was clear you had skills to offer. You were no longer a burden. You could identify every major artery, every key muscle group; you could stitch up any wound in just minutes; you could steel yourself against the blood and the bone and the gore. 

But you couldn’t fight. 

When Andrew set off the alarms on the day Judith was born, you’d had to stay back with Beth and Hershel. When Glenn and Maggie were taken to Woodbury, you had to wait for the others to bring them back before you could help. 

You were an asset, yes, but your job was entirely reactionary. You could only try to fix the injuries, you had no power to stop them from happening in the first place. 

Once things started heating up with the Governor, you’d had enough of it. You wanted to do  _ more _ . 

It was an afternoon like this one, you recalled. Hot and sunny. 

_ You were waiting for the right moment. Since his return to the prison, Daryl hadn’t been apart from his brother much. You understood why, of course. Not only had they been separated since before you’d even met Daryl, but they had a close relationship. Or they used to be close. It was hard to tell.  _

_ You didn’t like Merle all that much. He didn’t strike you as evil, not like how Maggie and Michonne described the Governor, but you didn’t like to be around him. The only time he’d spoken to you, Merle looked between you and Beth and then turned to Daryl with a smirk.  _

_ “Maybe you were right to come back, little brother.” Merle leered. “We wouldn’t’ve found tail this good out in the woods.”  _

_ Beth had just rolled her eyes at his less-than tasteful comment. She’d gotten a fair amount of that from the pig-headed boys at school. You were less prepared, your stomach twisting with unease.  _

_ “Man, shut up.” Daryl had grumbled, grabbing his brother by the arm.  _

_ “Oh-ho! Getting a mite chivalrous now, are we?” Merle laughed, eyeing you again. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes there, bro. Which one ya got your eye on? I’ll take the other.”  _

_ “I told ya t’shut up.” Daryl ground out, glancing back at you before successfully pulling his brother away and out of earshot.  _

_ You avoided Merle after that, which unfortunately also meant avoiding Daryl.  _

_ Most of the time.  _

_ “Hey, can I ask you something?” You held your hand up to your face, shielding your eyes from the sun as you approached the archer.  _

_ Merle was asleep in the cell block, leaving Daryl with a few hours to himself. Apparently he’d decided to spend them at the fence, trying to clear out the walkers gathered there.  _

_ Daryl shoved a piece of metal pipe through the chainlink, stabbing a walker through the eye. He pulled back, flicking his bangs out of his eyes as he turned to face you expectantly. _

_ “Would you…” You looked at the ground, pushing against your pride as you searched for the right words. “Could you teach me how to fight?”  _

_ “Why?” Daryl seemed surprised, squinting at you. _

_ “I need to know how to defend myself. Putting band aids on people is fine, but I want to do more. I want to help protect the group.”  _

_ Daryl shook his head slightly, “Why’re ya askin’ me? Should ask Rick or Glenn or somebody.”  _

_ “I don’t want any of them. They won’t...they’ll go easy on me. I want to learn,  _ **_really_ ** _ learn this stuff.”  _

_ Daryl chewed on the side of this thumb, looking out at the walkers beyond the fence as he considered your words.  _

_ “Fine.” Daryl finally replied, “Five minutes. Meet me in th’yard.”  _

_ “Thank you!” You grinned, already jogging back towards the cell block.  _

_ “An’ bring a knife with ya!” Daryl called after you.  _

_ He taught you some basics on knife fighting first, how to hold it for different strikes, how to angle it, how to put the most power behind it, that kind of thing. You practiced for an hour or so on the walkers by the fence, stabbing them in the stomach versus the ribs versus the head. Daryl watched carefully, offering monosyllabic critiques and adjustments to your form.  _

_ “Walkers’re the easy part,” Daryl said, leading you back towards the grass. “S’people ya gotta worry about. Ya need t’learn how t’throw a punch.”  _

_ Daryl stood in front of you, hand up with his palms facing you. “Hit me.”  _

_ You curled your hand into a fist and swung, hitting his palm with a dull smack. Daryl shook his head, dropping his hands.  _

_ “Ya got put more into it. An’ put yer thumb under yer fingers, not over ‘em.” He demonstrated, making a fist.  _

_ “Okay,” You nodded, copying his technique.  _

_ Daryl held up his hands again, waiting. You staggered your feet, leaning into your back foot a bit this time before swinging. Your hand hit harder this time, the contact stinging against your knuckles.  _

_ “Again.”  _

_ You punched until you couldn’t feel your hands anymore. Beth came out with Carl around then, holding Judith. They settled in the grass a few yards away, watching the show.  _

_ That was when Daryl decided to start on the hand-to-hand drills.  _

_ You lunged, trying to take him down for the third time, but his leg hooked behind yours before you even got close, dropping you to the ground.  _

_ Groaning, you lay there and looked up at the bright blue sky. You could hear Beth and Carl laughing at your cartoonish failure.  _

_ “C’mon.” Daryl said, nudging your leg with the toe of his boot.  _

_ “Give me a second,” You held up your hand, index finger extended. “I need to catch my breath.”  _

_ “Thought ya said ya didn’ wan’ anybody t’go easy on ya.”  _

_ You lifted your head to glare at him, but got to your feet anyway. You resumed your ready position, legs bent and hands raised. After a deep breath, you lunged.  _

_ And then got knocked on your ass. Again.  _

_ And again.  _

_ And again.  _

_ Again and again and again and again until you were ready for it. Until it wasn’t hard to get back up anymore.  _

“Here.” 

You blinked rapidly, the sound of Beth’s laughter and the memory of Daryl’s hands fading away. 

You turned your head to see the archer himself. Wondering absently if he could read your mind, you noticed him holding something out towards you: a water bottle. 

You shot him a confused look as Judith squirmed a little, grabbing the collar of your shirt in her chubby little fists. 

“Take’t.” Daryl pressed, using his other hand to fidget with the strap of his crossbow. 

“I’m fine.” You said, nodding for him to take it back. 

Daryl frowned. “I saw ya give yer water t’the kid.”

“Yeah,” You shrugged. “After I already drank half of it. Daryl, I’m fine. You need it more than me anyway.” 

“S’that supposed t’mean?” 

You leveled your best  _ are you serious _ expression at him. “If something happened right now, out of the two of us, who do you think is more likely to go leaping into action?” 

Daryl stared ahead at the road, the tips of his ears turning pink. 

“Even if Judith and I weren’t having some girl time right now, I think the answer would be the same.” You said. “I appreciate it, Daryl, I do. But you should keep your water.” 

His shoulders stiffened, the practiced look of emotionlessness passing once more over his face. Daryl didn’t say anything else, he just drifted steadily away from you. 

It was an afternoon like this one, but it had felt so different. 

~

A day and half had passed since you’d found anything. It’d been twenty-four hours  _ at least _ since anyone had a drop of water or a bite of food. 

And it was starting to take its toll. 

You felt yourself getting weaker. You felt the heaviness in your bones, the scratch in your throat, the emptiness in your stomach. 

Still, none of it was as bad as the hollowness you felt  _ everywhere _ . 

You’d felt  _ that _ since Atlanta. Always on the edges of your mind, always lying just beneath the surface, it was there. Just an ever-present nothing. The sense of something missing. 

Looking out for Carl or Judith, checking on the puncture wound in Gabriel’s foot, scavenging, running, fighting, it all helped distract you from the hollowness. 

But you couldn’t anymore. You couldn’t push it away or try to ignore it. 

You were supposed to be looking for water. You, Sasha, Maggie, and Daryl had all split off into the woods to look for  _ something _ . Anything. 

According to the map, there should have been a stream just a ways off the road. In its place, you found a dried up bed of mud. You walked alongside the empty rivet for a while, just in case. 

But the longer you walked, the more you saw her. Beth, who was dead before you got to say goodbye. Beth who was something else entirely, a bloodied facsimile of the girl who knew you better than yourself. Beth, who was  _ supposed  _ to be there. Beth, who was  _ supposed  _ to be alive. Beth, who was  _ supposed  _ to be with you until the end. 

You dropped to your knees. Tears you hadn’t shed since that day in Atlanta rolled down your face, dripping uselessly down onto the ground. Your shoulders shook as sobs wracked your body. 

You curled your hands into fists, gripping the mud in your hands, letting it stain your skin and get under your fingernails. You wanted it to swallow you, to let you fill its hollowness so that yours would go away. 

You lost track of how long you sat there, weeping. Maybe a few minutes, maybe an hour. It felt like a lifetime. You cried until you had no more tears left and no more air in your lungs left for sobbing. 

A snarl sounded behind you, the distinct wheezing breath of a walker. You turned around, using a nearby tree to hoist yourself to your feet. Your vision swam for a moment, your head fuzzy. 

The walker stumbled closer, hungry as it reached for you. You blinked, regaining your focus in time to raise your knife and plunge the blade into its skull. The body fell into the riverbed, hitting the mud with a squelch. 

Numbly, you ripped part of its shirt off and used the fabric to wipe as much mud as you could from your hands. You began the slow trek back towards the road, your head pounding. 

Off to your left, a twig snapped. You raised your knife, looking towards the noise. You turned your head too fast, the motion making you slightly dizzy. 

“Y’alright?” 

The archer came into focus, crossbow half-lowered. He watched you carefully, gaze tracking from your eyes to your hands and back. 

He knew. 

Of course he knew. You’d just cried your heart out in the middle of the forest. Your eyes were probably red and puffy and you hadn’t gotten all the mud off and he was  _ Daryl _ , so of course he knew. 

“I’m good.” You lied anyway, wincing at the rasp in your voice. 

You expected Daryl to get annoyed with you. You figured he’d just go all stiff and silent again and walk off without you again. 

But he didn’t. 

His expression softened, the hard creases smoothing out and you recognized the emotion passing across his face. You knew exactly what he kept hidden behind his eyes. 

He knew. 

But you knew too. 

Readjusting your pack, you nodded your head towards the road in a silent invitation. Daryl shouldered his crossbow, nudging his chin upwards in an almost imperceptible gesture of assent. 

A small herd was gathering behind you. Since the last stop, one walker turned into three and then five and then seven and looking back now, you counted twelve in total. 

Rick wanted to wait until the right moment to take care of them. He was right, nobody had the strength to take them head-on. There was a bridge about a half mile ahead where you’d make your stand. 

Until then, the walkers just kept trudging along behind you. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes briefly against the glare of the sun. You’d been feeling worse and worse. It felt like you had a troupe of Irish step dancers rehearsing inside your skull and if you moved too quickly, the world started to spin around you. 

_ Dehydration _ . 

You knew what it was. Hershel had taught you well. 

But you didn’t have the luxury to think about him. And you didn’t have the luxury to complain or ask for a rest. You were  _ all  _ dehydrated. 

So you pushed on until the bridge. 

Carl, Judith, Noah, Tara, Eugene and Gabriel stayed on the far side while the rest of you got into formation on either side of the bridge. 

As the walkers approached, you either side-stepped or pushed them, using their own momentum to throw them down into the ravine. The plan worked for a little while, on the first half-dozen or so. 

Then Sasha broke formation, stabbing one in the head. 

“Stay in line,” Rick ordered, drawing his machete. “Flank her. Keep it controlled.” 

“The plan just got dicked.” Abraham muttered, advancing. 

You pulled out your knife, taking a deep breath and concentrating with all you had. 

Rick, Glenn, and Sasha took down the first few with Abraham and Michonne hot on their heels. You and Maggie faced off against the ones that wandered further. You grabbed hold of the walker’s shoulder, mustering as much strength as you could to drive your knife into its temple. 

As you wrenched the blade free, you saw a second walker making a beeline for you. Using both hands, you drove your knife upwards, cutting through the underside of its chin before pulling back again. 

You stumbled backwards, hearing your pulse thumping in your ears. You blinked, the sight of Sasha and Michonne facing off a few feet away drifting in and out of your vision. Black began to creep in at the edges, your head going light and fuzzy. You swayed, dimly aware that you were falling backwards. 

As you slipped out of consciousness, you didn’t feel your body hit the concrete. Instead, you just smelled leather and cigarettes and something else you couldn’t quite place. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update! In honor of my first day of college tomorrow I have decided to post this chapter early. Also, it’s one of my favorite chapters in this series, so there’s that too :D As always, send me feedback! I love to hear from you <3

Good things come to those who wait. It takes time and work and struggle to get what you want, to be happy. 

But everything that’s horrible and devastating happens in the blink of an eye. 

The prison was like that. It took work and time and so much  _ struggle _ to make it your home– to feel safe. You fought and you lost and you tried and you tried and tried until you could hope for a future there. 

Then it was gone in just a matter of hours. 

First you lost Zach, who was sweet and funny and so good for Beth. And then the fever hit and you spent two sleepless days and nights on death row with Hershel and Dr. S. You worked and you fought and you  _ tried _ and you still lost too many before Daryl and the others returned with the medicine. 

You’d barely gotten three hours of sleep when the prison rattled with the first explosion and it began to really fall apart. 

Truthfully, you don’t remember much from that day. You don’t try to. 

But sometimes when you go to sleep, those moments come back in an array of snapshots–Hershel’s head snapping to the side as the blood sprayed; your finger on the trigger of a gun, squeezing over and over again until someone was grabbing you and shoving you onto the bus; the bus hitting a herd in the middle of the road; ending up on the roof of the bus, alone and covered in the blood of those you’d tried to save. 

_ “We need to wake her up.”  _

The voice echoed in your mind, fuzzy and far away from where you sat slumped on the school bus roof. 

_ “Severe dehydration…”  _

_ “Look, she’s moving a little.”  _

_ “...gave me her water two days ago.” _

You stared down at your hands, stained red. They shook, the world beyond your fingers beginning to shimmer and change as the voices became clearer. 

_ “Hasn’t slept in days. Kept takin’ watch.”  _

You recognized that one, the rasping tone unmistakeable. 

“You’ve been doing the same, Daryl.” And that sounded like Carol. 

“ _ I _ ain’t the one passed out on th’ground.” came Daryl’s reply. “We gotta–”

You groaned, muscles aching in protest as you shifted and opened your eyes. Maggie came into focus first, eyes full of worry as she leaned over you. 

“Hey,” She breathed, her hands coming up to touch your face. 

“I’m fine.” Your voice sounded like you’d been trying to drink sandpaper. “Don’t worry, Mags.” 

Maggie let out a breathless laugh, pulling you up into a tight embrace. 

“Don’t you scare me like that again, you hear me?” 

“Yeah,” You patted her back weakly.

She pulled back, helping you sit up fully. You looked at the rest of the group sitting around you under the shade of some trees at the side of the road. Turning your head in both directions down the long stretch of asphalt, you could no longer see the bridge.

“Where are we?” 

“About a mile past where you fainted.” Rick explained, arms resting atop his knees. 

You winced at that word,  _ fainted. _ It made you sound like a dainty thing, weak enough to swoon at the slightest distress. 

Then your brain caught up with the rest of his sentence. 

“A mile? How…” 

“Daryl carried you.” Maggie said. “Kept you from cracking your head open when you fell, too.”

“Oh.” 

You looked over at the archer, gratitude swelling in your chest. Daryl kept his gaze on his hands, fiddling with a piece of grass. 

“We found some cars on the way.” Tara spoke up. “But all we could scavenge was booze.” 

You frowned. Alcohol dehydrated the body, which was the  _ last _ thing any of you needed right now. 

“That won’t help.” 

The others didn’t need to say anything. You knew they agreed with you. 

Abraham took a swig from the bottle of whisky anyway. 

“I truly do not know how things could get worse.” Eugene murmured. 

“They can.” Rosita replied. “They can, and they will.” 

You could feel your headache coming back already. Slowly, you brought your knees up to your chest and curled your arms around your shins. Letting your forehead rest against the worn denim of your jeans, you closed your eyes. 

A sudden rustling from across the road had everyone snapping to attention. Dogs, fur-matted and feral, emerged from the woods. Lips curling, they bared their teeth and growled menacingly. 

Hackles raised, the dogs poised to attack. The instant they leapt forward, your view was blocked by a dark flash of fabric. With the agility of the seasoned hunter he was, Daryl moved around you, using his own body as a shield against the animals. 

But the attack never came. The moment Daryl moved to protect you, Sasha had cocked her rifle and fired. The dogs fell to the ground with a heart-wrenching whimper before lying still. 

You looked away from their dead bodies, bringing your gaze back to Daryl. He was close, enough that you felt the warmth radiating from his body. He met your gaze, blue eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, it made your chest tighten.

You wanted to say something, to say his name or thank him or ask him if he was okay, but then Abraham was standing up and grabbing one of the dogs by the collar as he lifted his machete. 

“At least we got some food.” 

~

The food helped, but not enough. 

You were on your feet again, at least. And conscious. 

_ Thank God for small victories.  _

The group continued to walk. Despite a destination in mind, despite having a goal to meet, everything felt pointless. D.C. wouldn’t matter if you all starved or died of dehydration before you got there. And even if you didn’t, what  _ exactly  _ did you think you’d find there? 

At this point, you weren’t sure what was worse– spending another week wandering the road like a herd of walkers or finding D.C in ruins. You weren’t sure the group could survive the latter. Not after everything else you’d lost. 

“Tell ‘em I went to look for water.” 

You turned your head at the sound of Daryl’s voice, seeing Abraham nod as the archer vered off the road and into the woods. Slowing your pace, you watched the angel wings on the back of his vest disappearing into the trees. 

Something twisted in your chest as you watched him walk away, the sight triggering a memory from years before. 

“I’m going too.” You said, turning off the road after Daryl. 

Abraham called after you, “Just keep your face outta the dirt this time, okay?” 

You flipped him off over your shoulder. 

Even tired and dehydrated, Daryl Dixon could move fast. By the time you caught sight of his darkly-clad figure again, he was lighting a cigarette. He sat with his back against a tree, looking out towards an abandoned barn. You approached slowly, not wanting to startle him. 

But then he lowered the cigarette to his hand, pressing the burning tobacco against his skin. 

You stopped in your tracks as understanding settled in the pit of your stomach. You turned and retreated a few paces, footfalls nearly silent against the forest floor. Thunder rumbled in the distance as you leaned against a tree, facing away from the archer. Knife drawn, you carefully surveyed the surrounding trees. 

Just like your moment by the riverbed the day before, you knew Daryl needed this. He needed to feel it. And you were going to make sure nothing disturbed him.

You’d always wanted to do more for Daryl, but never quite knew how. Ever since that afternoon at the farm.

_ You were out in the field when it happened. You were walking back to the house after milking the cow, arms laden with two buckets filled with fresh milk when you saw them running.  _

_ Rick, their leader and the one you’d seen the most of save for maybe his son Carl. You saw Glenn and Shane with him.  _

_ You liked Glenn, he’d smiled at you on the porch the other day and talked with you about the book you were reading. Maggie was crushing on him something awful. He seemed nice.  _

_ Shane was difficult to read. He seemed like a good guy when he’d first arrived but after Otis died...you weren’t sure.  _

_ They were running towards the woods, and you recognized another member of their group. You were pretty sure his name was Daryl. You’d never spoken with him. He hadn’t seemed as keen to get to know the Greene household as the others. From what you’d observed, sitting up by your bedroom window looking out at their little camp, Daryl didn’t seem very keen on anyone at all. _

_ Rick and the others reached Daryl and spoke for a minute. Then the gunshot echoed through the field. _

_ As Daryl slumped to the ground, your stomach dropped.  _

_ Milk splashed out onto the ground as you dropped the buckets and took off towards them. The other three hauled his limp body up, starting to carry him to the house. Glenn ripped something from Daryl’s neck as you approached, hiding it behind his back. You didn’t ask what it was. You had other things to worry about.  _

_ “Where was he hit?” You asked, scanning the unconscious archer.  _

_ He had a head wound, blood dripping down over his eyebrow. More blood stained his abdomen, seeping through his grimey flannel.  _

_ “The bullet grazed his head.” Rick said. “But he said he fell onto one of his arrows.”  _

_ “Shit.” You cursed, mind blurring with the scattered facts you’d learned from Patricia and medical books around the house. “Okay. Okay. Bring him to the house, I’ll run ahead and get a room ready.”  _

_ You pulled your flannel over your head, leaving you in just a tank top, and tossed it to Glenn. He caught the shirt, eyes wide with confusion.  _

_ “Use that to put pressure on his side.” You ordered before sprinting back to the house.  _

_ Beth and Jimmy were probably out in the barn somewhere, and Maggie and Hershel were at the stables, leaving just Patricia to help you. _

_ She sat in the kitchen, staring blankly out the window. She’d been doing that a lot since Otis died. As you burst into the kitchen, Patricia started and looked up. _

_ “Daryl’s hurt.” You managed, chest heaving. “A bullet grazed his head and he has an abdominal wound straight through his side. I think he’s lost a lot of blood.”  _

_ Patricia stood up, and you could see her pushing away any feeling except focus.  _

_ “We can use my room.” You offered.  _

_ “Go clear space around the bed and strip everything off except the sheets.” She said. “I’ll get Hershel’s bag.”  _

_ The others weren’t far behind, hauling Daryl up the stairs and hefting him onto your bed just a few minutes later.  _

_ “I need this room clear.” Patricia said, her nurse-voice in full effect. “Y/N, you stay.”  _

_ “What can we do?” Glenn asked, gripping your now-bloody shirt in his hands. _

_ “Get Hershel. Tell him what happened.” You said, pressing your lips into a tight smile. “We’re going to take care of him.”  _

_ You shut the door, turning back and focusing on the task at hand. “Tell me what to do.”  _

_ “We need to get his shirt off.” She said, handing you a pair of scissors. _

_ Cutting the seams open, you pushed the fabric away from Daryl’s body. You helped Patricia roll him onto his side so she could get a better look at the damage from the arrow. When you saw his back, however, you felt your breath catch in your throat.  _

_ Scars covered the expanse of his back, his skin deeply marred. The marks were too long to be knife wounds, too patterned to be from one incident, and too deliberate to be from an accident.  _

_ Someone did this to him.  _

_ You froze, emotion filling your chest at the sight. Your palms itched with the desire to act. You wanted to wake him up. You wanted to say something...to  _ **_do_ ** _ something. But you didn’t know what.  _

_ “Y/N.”  _

_ You blinked, refocusing. “Sorry. Yes. What?”  _

_ “Check his head.”  _

_ Pushing the emotion in your chest aside, you got back to work. First you cleaned the gash, gently dabbing an alcohol swab around the cut. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, thank God. You were nowhere near ready for that.  _

_ With the wound covered by a strip of gauze, you started to wrap a bandage around his head.  _

_ Then Hershel entered the room.  _

_ He looked like a thunderstorm, features dark and drawn as he took in the scene in front of him. When he fixed his gaze on you, you felt ten years younger and a full foot shorter.  _

_ “I want you out of here.” He said, rolling up his sleeves.  _

_ “But–”  _

_ “Right now, Y/N.” You knew not to argue as he approached the bed. “And don’t come back in here. You’ll stay in Beth’s room tonight. Door locked.”  _

_ You nodded, eyes downcast as you left the room.  _

_ Beth came up a while later, plopping down onto her bed with you as you recounted the afternoon’s event.  _

_ “Hershel said I can’t go back in, but I feel like I should.” You said, fiddling with the hem of your tank top.  _

_ “Why?” Beth flopped onto her back. “You did what you could. Daddy and Patricia can handle the rest. He’ll be fine.”  _

_ “I know. But there was this…” You paused, wondering whether you should tell her about the scars. It seemed like such a personal thing. It wasn’t even your business to  _ **_know_ ** _ about his scars, let alone tell anyone else. “I just feel like he needs a friend. I don’t know.”  _

_ Beth laughed at that.  _

_ “Out of all of them, he’s the last one I’d want to make friends with.” She said. “I saw him eating a squirrel yesterday, Y/N. I don’t think he’s the friendly type. And Daddy said not to. You should listen to him.”  _

_ “Yeah…” you sighed, “You’re probably right.” _

You heard a soft rustle behind you. Peeking around the tree, you saw Daryl getting back to his feet. He shouldered his crossbow once more, picking his way through the trees towards the road as thunder boomed in the distance. 

You decided to take a different route, not wanting him to know you’d followed him. Even though you weren’t watching him, he probably wouldn’t take kindly to the intrusion. Moving quickly through the trees, you rejoined the group a few minutes before he did. 

The sight before you was unnerving: the others gathered in a rough circle, all staring down at the road and the four gallons and several bottles of water just sitting there. 

Wordlessly, Rick came over to you, holding a piece of paper scrawled with the words ‘from a friend.’ 

Daryl emerged behind you then, coming to stand at your shoulder. You passed him the note. 

He met your gaze, the same unease passing between you. Daryl scanned your surroundings, swinging his crossbow off his shoulder. You drew your knife, peering into the trees as well. You hadn’t seen another soul out there, dead or alive.

“What else are we gonna do?” Tara asked. 

“Not this.” Rick said, gaze passing around the circle. “We don’t know who sent it.” 

“If this is indeed a trap, then we already happen to be in it.” Eugene argued, eyes locked onto the package. “But I for one would like to think it is indeed from a friend.” 

“What if it isn’t?” Carol piped up. “What if they put something in it?” 

Eugene surged forward, grabbing a bottle. 

“Eugene.” Rosita warned. 

“What are you doing?” Tara shook her head at him. 

“Quality assurance.” 

Eugene barely raised the bottle to his lips before Abraham slapped it to the ground, splashing water in Eugene’s face. 

“We can’t.” Rick said, voice low.

Thunder rumbled again, this time much louder. All talking stopped as heads raised towards the clouds above. All at once, the rain started. No small drizzle or passing cloud, the rain just poured down. 

Michonne held out her arms, welcoming the water. Carl tipped his face up, opening his mouth and drinking in the rain. Rick let out a husky, disbelieving chuckle. Tara and Rosita lay down on the ground with their faces to the sky, smiling. 

You remained still, the drops cooling your skin. You knew this was good, this was a gift, that you should be happy, but you weren’t. Somehow, the water seeping through your clothes had brought despair with it, deepening the hollowness in your chest.

Beth would have laughed. She would have grabbed your hand and pulled you with her to dance in the rain. 

But she was gone. 

A few feet away, Maggie looked down at the ground, rain dripping from the ends of her hair. You turned your head to see Daryl beside you, staring blankly out at the rain.

You wanted to say something to him. To tell him you felt the same nothingness. To tell him that  _ you knew, too. _ But as you opened your mouth, you found you didn’t know where to begin or how to go about it. 

So instead, you reached out and took his hand. 

Daryl stiffened, head turning to look at you in confusion and surprise. You held his gaze and kept your grip on him, trying to communicate through touch what couldn’t through words. 

His eyes were clearer in the rain, a more startling shade of blue that made your stomach twist. Daryl squeezed your hand, and you knew he understood. 

“I’m sorry, my Lord.” Gabriel was crying, his hands shaking as he looked up at the sky. 

“Everybody, get the bags.” Rick’s voice called out, “Anything you can find. Come on.” 

Just like that, Daryl’s hand was gone from yours. You tore your attention away from the archer, swinging your backpack off your back and pulling out anything that might hold water. 

Thunder clapped above you, even closer than before. Another rolling boom followed, and then another–loud and threatening. 

Judith began to cry. 

“Let’s keep moving.” Rick shouted over the thunder, eyes narrowed at the darkening sky. 

Daryl stepped forward, pointing back towards the woods. “There’s a barn.” 

The barn smelled like horse shit. 

But it had a roof, and walls, and enough space that you could all sleep without feeling like sardines stacked up on top of each other. 

Daryl had even gotten a small fire going. That’s where you were now, sitting beside him. Rick, Michonne, Glenn, and Carol sat with you while the storm continued to rage outside. 

Rick gazed over at his sleeping children, expression unreadable. 

“He’ll be okay.” Carol said. “He bounces back. Better than the rest of us.” 

“I used to feel sorry for kids that have to grow up now. In this.” Rick said, “But I think I got it wrong. Growing up is getting used to the world. This is easier for them.” 

“This isn’t the world. This isn’t it.” Michonne said, gaze sharp in the firelight. 

“It might be.” Glenn added. “It might.”

“That’s giving up.” Michonne argued. 

“It’s reality.” 

“Until we see otherwise, this is what we have to live with.” Rick said, looking around at the six of you. 

You stared into the fire, feeling as if the flames were within you, burning the edges of that hollowness, making it sharper. 

“When I was a kid…” Rick broke the silence again. “I asked my grandpa once if he’d ever killed any Germans in the war. He wouldn’t answer. He said that was grown-up stuff, so...so I asked if the Germans ever tried to kill him. But he got real quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory. He said every day he woke up he told himself: ‘Rest in peace, now go to war.’ And then after a few years of pretending he was dead, he made it out alive.” 

Images flashed behind your eyes– train tracks stretching to infinity; your legs curled to your chest as you huddled alone in the corner of a train car waiting for the end; Beth’s skin sallow and pale, her blonde hair stained with blood. 

The fire in your chest got hotter, making you feel restless, sending tears prickling behind your eyes. 

“That’s the trick of it, I think.” Rick continued. “We do what we need to do, and  _ then  _ we get to live. But no matter what we find in D.C., I know we’ll be okay. Because this is how we survive. We tell ourselves...that  _ we  _ are the walking dead.” 

A tear escaped then, hot against your face as it slipped down your cheek. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Daryl turn his head. You felt his Georgia sky eyes on you. 

You stood up, looking at Rick with eyes blazing like the flames. 

“No.” Your voice came out cracked and shaking. “No, we’re  _ not _ .”

Unable to stay there any longer, you turned and walked away as thunder shook the skies outside. 

You pushed open the stable gate and moved into the vacated entrance space. Lightning flashed beyond the barn, glinting off the chains Abraham had wound around the door. 

Shoving a hand through your still-damp hair, you began to pace. You walked the width of the barn, passing the doors and turning at the far wall before pacing back to the other wall. As you turned again, you very nearly missed running straight into Daryl. 

You felt the thunder vibrating in your chest as you stood just a few inches away from him. Daryl stared at you, his face illuminated for only an instant as lightning flashed. He looked sharper, more certain, like the daze of regret and loss had lifted. 

He looked like he wanted to say something. 

Thunder cracked and wind blew, knocking the doors inward. The chains clinked and rattled as the doors swung and shook. 

Whatever Daryl had wanted to say disappeared as soon as it appeared. He moved towards the door in familiar problem-solving mode, ready to tighten the makeshift lock. You followed, intending to help. 

But as you glanced through the break in the wood, you felt your stomach plummet. 

A herd of walkers approached, just seconds away from piling up against the ramshackle walls. 

You shoved your shoulder up against the wall, holding them shut as Daryl frantically tried to tighten the chains. He spun around, pressing his back against the doors just before impact. 

The wood shuddered violently at the sudden force. Beyond just inches of pine, the walkers snarled and growled, hungry and desperate. You pushed harder, pressing both hands against the wood as you shuffled closer to Daryl and the opening between the doors. 

The others were coming now, more hands against the doors, more bodies packing in and fighting against the horde beyond. 

You couldn’t let them in. You couldn’t let them win. You couldn’t let them get you. 

You would not become them.

For too long, you walked between death and life. Clothed in regrets and memories, you wandered, listless and alone. You were so close to it, to being dead, that you forgot what it was to be alive. 

Never again. 

Your pulse thrummed in your ears and your heart hammered against your ribs. Your feet slid against the mud as you pressed forward with your hands and then your shoulder and then your hip and then your hands again and again and again. 

Until it was over. 

When the thunder quieted and the walls stopped shaking, everyone pulled back, weakened and bone-tired. 

You were exhausted too, but somehow felt lighter than you had in a long time. The morning, not too far away now, seemed new. You realized, dropping down against the wall on the opposite end of the barn, that you were hopeful. 

Everyone else lay down right where they were at the front of the barn and passed out like a giant litter of newborn puppies. 

Well, almost everyone. 

Daryl settled down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees. He looked at his hands, picking absently at the skin on the side of his thumb. 

“Should get some sleep.” He murmured. 

“Not yet.” You tipped your head back, letting it rest against the wall. “We just survived a nightmare. I’m not ready for another one.”

Silence settled between you for a few minutes, quiet and still like the air outside. You inhaled deeply, pushing your hair back out of your face as the words finally surfaced.

“I keep thinking about how things would be different if she was here. How she’d try to boss me around or let me be silly for a while or just be herself and it would be  _ better _ .” You finally said, voice low and quiet. “And I felt like it was wrong to smile without her. Like somehow I’m not allowed to live anymore because she’s–” 

You took a shaky breath. “She’s gone. But...but I don’t think she’d want things to be this way. If she saw how I was, I think she’d be angry with me. I just...I don’t know what to do.”

Daryl extended one leg, linking his fingers together over his still bent knee. You looked over at his boot, counting the flecks of mud splattered across the toe. 

“She talked about ya all th’time, y’know.” Daryl picked at a tear in his jeans. 

“Really?”

“Said somethin’ one night…” Daryl hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek. 

You turned to look at him, curiosity and  _ need _ filling your chest. He glanced at you, gaze softening as he took in the openness of your expression–the desire to hear something of Beth beyond your own memories. 

“Said she  _ knew _ ya’d made it outta there, knew ya’d survived. Kept telling me how smart ya are, how yer always learnin’ and watchin’. Didn’t wanna believe ‘er ‘til Terminus an’ I saw ya again. She was right.” 

Daryl looked down at his hands, picking dirt out from under his fingernails in silence for a moment. When he spoke again, it was so quiet you almost missed it. 

“Said we’d be the last ones standin’, me an’ you.”

A pang struck through your heart, sharp and bittersweet. You tucked her words, spoken through Daryl’s twanging country lilt, away in the back of your mind with other small pieces of her– memories you didn’t want to forget. 

But you couldn’t keep reliving them. You couldn’t keep existing in memories and regrets. Not anymore. 

“Thank you,” You breathed, turning to him with a soft smile. 

He canted his head to the side, brow furrowed. 

“For what?” 

“I don’t know,” You shrugged. “Everything. For being with her, for taking care of her. For catching me and carrying my ass for a whole mile. For  _ talking _ with me. I...I like talking with you.” 

Daryl scoffed, uncomfortable in the face of your gratitude. “Think yer gettin’ delirious, girl.” 

You let out a soft chuckle. “Maybe.” 

“Here.” Daryl shifted, shrugging his vest off and holding it out to you. “Bein’ warmer helps with th’dreams.”

You accepted the worn leather garment, wrapping it around your shoulders. His smell and leftover warmth surrounded you, all smoke and leather and comfort. 

Closing your eyes, you felt the exhaustion catching up to you in a rush. You were asleep in minutes, your head dropping gently down onto Daryl’s shoulder. 

For the few hours you slept, the nightmares never came.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys where has college been all my life I LOVE IT even online it’s so nice to take what I want to take and interact with kind and engaging intellectual people oh my godddddddddd Anyway! Here’s the new chapter! I hope you like it and tell me what you think! <3

Glenn was driving too fast. He always liked to speed up, to feel like he’s  _ going _ somewhere. But it was dark, really dark. The only reason you even knew there were trees was from a glimpse of the moon beyond the branches every once in a while. Apart from that, thirty feet or so of road ahead of you as all you could see. 

In the passenger seat in front of you, Rick opened the glove box and pulled out a stack of license plates. Rick glanced at Glenn, flipping through a few of them. 

“Um,” Aaron spoke up beside you, “I’m trying to collect all fifty states. Put them all on a wall in my house.” 

Michonne stared at him from the other side of the backseat. “You have your own house?” 

Aaron hummed in acknowledgement, flexing his fingers within the layers of duct tape Rick had used to bind his wrists together. 

You didn’t trust Aaron. 

You wanted his promise to be true, but you didn’t trust him. Not yet, anyway. The thought of a safe haven, a community with walls and people and food after so long on the road…

Well, it sounded too good to be true. 

And something about Aaron seemed off. He looked and sounded like he’d just walked right out of a suburban backyard cookout and into the barn. The way he spoke about his community seemed practiced, with the cadence of a platitudinous high school commencement address. 

_ “Our best resource is the people that live there. _ ” 

Aaron was a man with the luxury of time and supplies. He said he’d been watching your group for a while, waiting and observing. He even claimed to be the “friend” leaving water in the road. 

He was clean and put-together, and somehow that made you more suspicious. When you meet someone out there in the world with dirt on their face, holes in their clothes and blood on their hands, it’s easy to understand their angle–survival. But someone who has food and shelter and no real reason to ask you for help…that was much more dangerous. 

Seeing his own hesitations mirrored in your face, Rick asked you to come along in Aaron’s car. The others trailed behind in the RV, driving through the night towards  _ something. _

“See for yourself.” Aaron said, gesturing towards his bag. 

Michonne looked him up and down once before giving into curiosity and picking up his little envelope full of photographs. You leaned forward slightly, peering at the black and white images of houses and lawns and gardens. 

“Where are all the people?” You asked, uneasiness settling in your stomach. 

“Oh, I took a picture of the whole group. I didn’t get the exposure right. When I tried to develop it later, it just–”

“Did you ask him the questions?” Michonne cut him off, looking towards Rick. 

“No.” 

Michonne fixed her gaze on Aaron, eyes narrowed. “How many walkers have you killed?” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Aaron glanced between the two of you, anxiety flashing behind his eyes. 

“How many?” You repeated, matching Michonne’s tone. 

“I don’t know. A lot.” 

“How many people?” Michonne asked. 

“Two.” 

“Why?” 

Aaron set his jaw. “Because they tried to kill me.” 

Up front, Rick shifted, finding something beside his seat. He held up a clear plastic cone with wires attached. 

“You were listening to us?” Glenn demanded. 

Your stomach twisted. 

“I already said I was watching you. Yes, I was listening–” 

“It means his people could have one, too. They could’ve heard our plan. This isn’t safe–” Rick said, just as the car collided with a herd of walkers. 

Blood splattered the windshield as the bodies hit the engine with harsh thumps. Glenn kept his foot on the gas, plowing through. 

“Glenn!” 

“They were right behind us.” Glenn exclaimed, trying to steer. “They would have hit us. Now they can get out.” 

You grit your teeth, digging your nails into the leather upholstery as the car continued forward, smashing into walkers left and right until you could see nothing but red smeared across the windows. Finally the car broke through, skidding sideways as Glenn put his foot on the brake. The second the car came to a stop, you were out and looking back at the road. 

“I don’t see them.” Rick said, standing a few feet away as you peered into the darkness. 

“No, they got away.” Glenn agreed. 

The surviving walkers drew closer, snarling as they shuffled along towards the car. 

“Let’s circle back and find them.” Rick said, ducking back in to check the map. 

You and Glenn tried to clear the windshield as best you could, wiping the blood away with your hands before climbing back in. 

“We can take a left a couple miles up twenty-three. Jefferson Avenue.” 

“Jefferson Avenue.” Glenn repeated, turning the key in the ignition. 

The engine shuddered, sputtering noisily without starting. You could see the herd getting closer, their forms blurry through the blood. 

“We gotta get outta here.” Aaron said, eyes wide with fear. 

Glenn turned the key again to no avail. 

“I’ll try to clear it.” You pushed your door open again and got out. 

Moving to the front of the car, you found several limbs sticking out of the hood. You dislodged one and then another, wincing as you tugged against the third. You’d just gotten it free when something caught your eye. 

A flare, soaring into the sky towards a distant water tower. You dropped the blood-slicked arm and dashed to the side of the car, opening your door half-way to peer inside. 

“Did you see–” 

You stopped short as the door slammed back into you, knocking the air from your lungs and your body to the ground. As you gasped and tried to regain your footing, you saw Aaron take off into the woods, Michonne hot on his heels. 

“Michonne! Leave him!” Rick shouted. “We need to find our people!” 

“They saw that flare, they think we shot it.” Michonne yelled back. “This is how we find them.” 

Back on your feet, you drew your gun from the waistband of your jeans. “Let’s go.” 

The four of you ran for the woods, making it a few yards in until you ran into the herd. You and Glenn moved to stand back to back, firing into the crowd ahead of you. Rick and Michonne advanced, leaving and opening just big enough for a walker to slam into Glenn and drive him backwards into the brush. 

Drawing your knife, you yanked the walker away from him and plunged your knife into its head. More of them followed, driving you both away from Rick and Michonne. You and Glenn shot at the monsters, walking backwards shoulder to shoulder. 

In the dark chaos, you didn’t notice a lone walker approaching from behind until its fingers were on your arm, pulling you to the ground. Before its teeth could sink into your flesh, another gunshot rang out, splattering blood across your face as the walker slumped on top of you. 

Glenn shoved the body away, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. 

“You okay?” He asked, searching your face with brotherly concern. 

“Yeah,” You breathed, wiping your face with your sleeve. “You?” 

“I will be once we’re out of here. Come on.” 

You ran, backtracking towards where you’d lost Rick and Michonne. Off to your right, you heard a man shouting. 

“Get off!” 

Aaron stood, his back pinned to a tree as he kicked at an oncoming walker, hands still bound. Glenn hesitated, but you didn’t give it a second thought–running up behind the walker and shoving your knife into its neck. 

Glenn grabbed Aaron by the shoulder, turning him around long enough to slice open the duct tape around the other man’s wrists. Gunshots rang out in the distance. 

“Run if you want.” Glenn said, grabbing your elbow and tugging you towards the sound. “We got other things to worry about.”

“We can make it together. But we can  _ only _ make it together.” Aaron took a step towards you, making Glenn halt. “ _ You _ said that. I  _ was _ listening.” 

You studied Aaron for a moment. You believed him this time, his voice desperate and his face open with worry. He wasn’t hiding or manipulating. He meant it. 

Glenn glanced at you. You nodded. Pulling it from his waistband, Glenn tossed back Aaron’s gun. 

“They need us. Let’s go.”

You found Rick and Michonne in the nick of time. Rick was out of ammo, resorting to firing a flare into the herd before going at them with his machete. The three of you wasted no more time taking down the rest of them. As the last body fell, Aaron dropped his gun and held up his hands in a show of surrender. 

“If you want to tie me up again, that’s fine. But hurry up.” 

Rick glanced between the three of you, picking up Aaron’s pistol. “No time. We’re going that way.” 

You took off towards the water tower, hoping against hope you’d find your friends alive when you got there. 

Creeping slowly forward, your heart hammered in your chest. The RV was parked just a few yards down the alleyway, but you saw nothing and no one nearby. Rick peered around the corner, letting out one low whistle. You waited with baited breath, anticipation twisting in your stomach. 

Then you heard the whistled response.  _ All clear. _

And then all of you were running, closing the distance between you and the familiar figures emerging from an abandoned storefront. 

Ahead of you, Glenn caught Maggie in an embrace as Carl ran to his father. You smiled, heart swelling at the reunion. As you passed the front of the RV, you searched the faces illuminated by the flickering streetlight. Eugene, Rosita, Carol, Tara…and Daryl.

Your eyes found each other at the same moment, relief filling your chest. Daryl rushed towards you, reaching you just past the edge of the streetlamp’s reach– haloing his silhouette in golden light. 

Maybe it was the clandestine nature of meeting in shadow, the pent-up emotion of the last few hours, or something else entirely, but Daryl’s hands grasped your arms without a second’s hesitation, pulling you closer as he searched your face. 

“Ya hurt?” He rasped, his fingertips brushing gently against the blood splattering your collarbone. 

“I’m okay,” You said, putting your hand on his shoulder, reminding him you were here, you were with him. 

Daryl squeezed your arm gently, shifting almost imperceptibly closer to you. Again, you got the strangest feeling he was about to say something. You looked at him, curiosity and a bit of apprehension swirling in your stomach. 

“Y/N,” Maggie called your name. 

And just like that, the moment was over. 

Daryl let go, his face returning to its practiced expressionlessness. He moved away, letting you walk past him into the circle of light. 

“Yeah?” You moved closer to her, standing by the door. 

“Aaron has a partner. His name is Eric.” Maggie explained, ushering you inside. “We found him trapped under a car after he sent up that flare. It rolled onto his ankle. I did my best but–” 

“I’ll go take a look at it.” You nodded, moving towards the side room. 

“Hey,” Maggie grabbed your hand, pulling you back so she could wrap her arms around you in a tight hug. “I’m glad you’re back.” 

You smiled into her shoulder, hugging her back. “Me too.” 

Aaron and Eric were laughing when you walked in, Eric’s hand clasped tightly in Aaron’s grip. Eric noticed you first, turning towards the doorway with a genuine, if nervous, smile. 

“Hi, I’m Eric.” 

“Y/N.” You moved further into the room. “I’d like to take a look at your ankle, if that’s alright.” 

“Please do. Maggie fixed it up a bit, but she said we should wait for you…”

Aaron shuffled out of your way, moving to sit by Eric’s head while you knelt by the end of his makeshift bed. You began to gently unwrap Eric’s ankle, trying not to jostle him too much. 

“I, uh,” Aaron cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for what happened back there.” 

Eric glanced between the two of you, brows drawn. “Did he do something stupid?” 

You shook your head, smiling, “He was a worried man. That’s all.” 

“Still, I hope I didn’t hurt you.” Aaron pressed, and when you looked up you saw guilt shining in his eyes. 

“Might bruise a little, but I’ve definitely had worse.” You said. “And for the record, I probably would have done the same if I were in your position.” 

Aaron gazed at Eric, love shining clear in his face as he looked at the other man. You lifted Eric’s ankle, gently prodding the skin. He winced at the contact, hissing in pain. 

“Sorry.” You murmured, setting his foot back down. “It’s definitely broken. I’m going to make a splint and we should keep it elevated overnight but–” 

“We have an infirmary at home. I’ll go when we get back.” 

“Okay,” You nodded, starting the process of setting his ankle. 

Aaron spoke softly to Eric, trying to distract him from the pain as you worked. You didn’t really listen, your thoughts drifting towards this community of theirs. An infirmary, individual houses, people like Aaron and Eric…

As much as you knew you shouldn’t, you felt hope begin to rise in your chest. 

~

“Do you mind if I film this?” 

You looked up from the bookshelf where you’d been running your fingers reverently over the spines. The leader of this place, Deanna, stood by the couch, gesturing to a video camera mounted on a tripod. 

“Um, sure.” You said, feeling a flutter of old teenage vanity as you wondered how wild you looked with your unwashed hair and grimey skin. “Go ahead.” 

“Excellent.” The camera beeped as Deanna pressed record and then settled on the sofa. “We like to keep things transparent here. Secrets only breed unrest.” 

You hummed noncommittally, moving away from the bookshelf and taking a seat across from Deanna. You perched on the edge of the armchair, feeling awkward and out of place. 

Everything was so...clean. You felt like by even looking at the room, you were leaving a stain. 

With its books and coffee mugs and picture frames and candles, the house felt like something out of a dream. Like you’d stepped into a time capsule from before, but you no longer remembered what it was like to live there. 

“So,” Deanna folded her hands in her lap. 

“So.” You nodded, unsure of what to say.

“How did you join your group?” 

“Well,” you cleared your throat, glancing awkwardly into the camera and then back at Deanna. “You’ve already met Maggie. Her younger sister Beth...um, she was my best friend. My dad got a job in Atlanta when I was fifteen and we moved down to Georgia for his work. I met Beth and the rest was pretty much history. But my dad’s company transferred him again two years later, right before senior year. I didn’t want to leave and start over again so Beth’s parents let me live with them until college.” 

“That’s very kind of them.” 

“Her father, Hershel—” You cleared your throat again. “He, um, he was a very kind man.” 

“I see. Did you lose them at the beginning? Hershel and Beth.” 

You looked down at your hands as emotion clogged your throat. “No.” 

“Ah,” Deanna’s expression softened. “Well, is there anything–” 

“Mom, the guy with the opossum won’t leave the porch. He’s just pacing out there like–oh, sorry.” 

A man, probably in his mid-twenties, stopped short in the doorway as he noticed you sitting across from Deanna. 

“I didn’t realize you were in an interview.” He smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his sandy hair. He was handsome, but he looked a little  _ too  _ aware of that particular fact. 

“It’s alright.” Deanna waved him closer. “This is my eldest son, Spencer. Spencer, this is Y/N L/N.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Spencer nodded, his smile turning from sheepish to charming in about a second flat.

“Yeah,” You didn’t smile back. “Likewise.”

“But seriously, what’s with the opossum?” Spencer laughed. “It’s kind of freaking people out.”

Protectiveness flared in your chest as you looked at Spencer and his crisp button-up and ivy league arrogance talking about Daryl like he was some minor annoyance. 

“How long have you been here, exactly?” You asked, sharpness underlying your tone. 

“Since the beginning.” Deanna answered. “I was a congresswoman and they sent us here when it all happened.” 

“Dad and Aidan and I put up the first few sections of wall together.” Spencer bragged. “The rest went up as more people joined the community. Been here ever since.” 

“So you’ve never left?” 

“Aidan goes on supply runs and I man the clock tower–” 

“But you’ve never had to  _ live _ out there.” You interrupted, sitting up straighter. “You haven’t had to survive.” 

“...No.” 

“That’s what I thought.” Your eyes flashed. “If  _ that’s  _ what freaks people out then you’re more sheltered than I thought. When you’ve been out there, a opossum is a gift from the heavens. In this world, the only certainty is death and all you can do is hope it won’t be you or the ones you love. Out there, if people you don’t know show up, making promises about safety and home and certainty, there will  _ always _ be fear in the back of your mind that the moment you look away, they’re going to slit your throat. Oh, and by the way, the ‘guy with the opossum’ is named Daryl and if I were you, I’d be glad he’s  _ just  _ pacing.” 

Even if you had stood up and punched him in the face, you weren’t sure Spencer could look more shocked. His face was completely blank, charming smile gone and mouth hanging open at your outburst. Finally, he mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear before rushing out of the room. 

You exhaled, feeling the anger subside. You glanced at Deanna, shifting in your seat. 

“Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“No,” a slow smile spread across her face. “I think we both needed to hear it.” 

“Oh.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling awkward again. 

“You and Daryl,” Deanna began, looking towards the window. “You’re close?” 

“We all are.” 

“Yes, but…” Deanna paused, as if looking for the right words. “Well, I interviewed Daryl almost an hour ago and he didn’t hover outside the door while I spoke with Maggie or Glenn or Carl. He only started that when I asked you to come inside.”

For some reason, your stomach fluttered when she said that. 

Before, you and Daryl were barely friends. Things were different now, you knew that. You  _ felt _ that– the heightened awareness of his presence, the affection you felt when he looked at you, the desire to spend time with him. You didn’t know what it meant exactly, but the two of you weren’t…you weren’t what Deanna was implying.

“We’ve been in this position before, sort of. Of finding a so-called safe-haven only for them to split us up and try to kill us. Last time we didn’t arrive at the same time and we all got trapped. None of us wants to repeat that experience.” 

“Terminus?” 

The name sent a shudder down your spine. You nodded. 

“Maggie said you were the first one. You were injured and alone when they joined you, you had been since the prison. It must have been difficult, surviving by yourself for that long.” 

You almost wanted to laugh. Difficult didn’t even  _ begin _ to cover it. 

As if sensing your hesitancy towards the topic, Deanna moved on. “The others also mentioned that you have medical experience?” 

“Yes,” You nodded. “Hershel was a vet and taught me everything he could.” 

Deanna smiled. “The thing about living here, in Alexandria, is that everyone has to contribute in some way. We have two doctors already in residence: Pete, who was a surgeon, and Denise who was a psychiatrist. Pete does most of the check-ups and operations. Starting tomorrow, I would like you to work with him as a sort of nurse, a doctor’s aide.” 

“I have experience, but I’m not formally trained or licenced to–” 

Deanna cut you off with a wave of her hand. “I’ve seen Eric’s ankle. It’s clear you’re skilled. I’m not asking you to perform brain surgery or treat cancer. You’ll just assist Pete as needed, and perhaps in your spare time you can avail yourself of the medical literature available. I’m sure we have some textbooks lying around somewhere. What do you say?” 

You thought for a moment, a sunny summer afternoon when your hopes had been so very different flashing in your mind. Then you looked Deanna in the eye, your answer coming easily.

“Yes.” 

~

Annette Greene had been full of idioms. She was a walking, talking display of those little wooden signs that middle-aged parents like to use for decorating their homes. Hershel had convinced her not to  _ actually _ decorate with them, so she’d settled for saying them outloud. 

One of her favorites was: “it’s the simple things.” 

You got the idea, but you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the “it” was supposed to be. Now, pulling on a clean, flowery blouse and fitted jeans over your freshly showered body, you finally understood. 

It was better than your birthday. It was better than a diamond necklace. It was better than sex, although you hadn’t actually experienced that one yet. But after so long out there, without showers or toothbrushes or non-bloodstained clothes, you were pretty sure it was better than  _ anything and everything _ else. 

A low whistle from your left caught your attention. Tara stood in the doorway, towel in hand. 

“You clean up good.” Tara grinned. “Literally.” 

“Shut up.” You shook your head, chucking self-consciously. 

“I mean it,” Tara said. “You look nice.” 

“Thanks.” You smiled softly, “It, um, it feels like something Beth would pick out for me.” 

Tara nodded, expression softening into something wistful. “Lily used to help me pick out my outfits if I had to go somewhere nice. Without her I probably would have gone to prom in sweats.” 

You laughed at that. “Sounds pretty comfortable, actually.” 

“That’s what I said!” 

Quiet settled between you for a moment as you both remembered your sisters. 

“Hey,” You stepped closer to her. “I’m sorry I pushed you away– when we were on the road. You were just trying to help and I shouldn’t have been cold to you like I was.” 

“Hey,” Tara furrowed her brow, “Don’t you apologize for that. You were going through it, and I completely understand. We’re good.”

She held out her fist. You smiled, tapping your own against hers. 

“We’re good.” 

“Awesome sauce.” Tara smiled. “Now get out of my way, I have been _dreaming_ of that shower for months.” 

“Yes ma’am.” You chuckled, letting her past you. 

Clean, dressed and as close to happy as you’d been in a long time, you walked back downstairs. The house was  _ huge _ . It was pale blue with white trim and a big wrap-around porch. And you had  _ two _ of them. You used to drive past places like this and imagine what it might be like to have a life that allowed you to live in a house that big and beautiful. You hadn’t ever imagined this. 

But somehow, this was better. The group had decided to stay all together in one for the night, still wary of Alexandria and its utopian naivety. As you stepped down off the stairs, you could hear everyone talking and milling around between the giant kitchen and even bigger living room. 

Through the doorway, you could see Carol and Daryl in the kitchen, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Unable to think of a better dinner, you decided to join them. 

“You should shower next.” Carol intoned, wrinkling her nose at him.

Daryl grunted noncommittally, taking a big bite of his sandwich. 

“It feels really nice.” You chimed in, walking over to grab a plate from the cabinet. 

At the sound of Daryl choking, you turned back quickly, concern lining your face. 

“Easy there, Pookie.” Carol thumped him on the back. 

He coughed, staring at you with wide eyes. And he didn’t stop. He just stared and stared like you’d dropped out of the sky right in front of him. 

“What?” You felt your face growing warm. “Did I miss a spot? I knew I wasn’t going to get all the dirt off in one go. Where—”

“You’re fine, Y/N.” Carol patted your arm, her voice bubbling with barely contained laughter. “I think you look awfully pretty, actually. Doesn’t she, Daryl?” 

Daryl blinked, dropping his gaze suddenly to the floor. 

He shrugged, “Guess so.” 

Your heart sank a little, wishing for just a moment that he’d agreed.

But you pushed the feeling away as fast as it arrived. Daryl’s opinion didn’t matter. Not about this. You didn’t dress for anyone but yourself. People thinking you looked nice was a bonus, and who cared if Daryl was one of those people or not? Certainly not you. 

You took a breath, setting that  _ annoying _ train of thought aside. 

“Pass me the bread? One of those sandwiches sounds really good right about now.” 

~

You were back in Deanna’s living room. But this time you couldn’t move. Your arms felt like lead, heavy and stuck to your sides. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t move them. 

“Nice bag you got there.” Deanna said, her voice not her own. “Probably has some nice supplies too.” 

Your mouth was sealed shut. You knew the words you wanted to say, you could picture them, you could taste them on your tongue, but they wouldn’t come out. 

Deanna smiled at you, twisted and cruel, raising a knife in her hand. You could do nothing but watch, unblinking, as she lunged and sank the blade deep into your shoulder. 

You felt it, the hot ripping pain of it, but the scream stuck in your throat, choking you. 

“Take her to Train Car A.” Deanna spat, moving away to reveal Spencer standing above you. 

He smiled his charming smile as he lifted you up and tossed you over his shoulder, carrying you away to your death. 

You awoke, sitting bolt upright as you clutched the blanket in your fists. Heart pounding and chest heaving, it took several moments for you to get your bearings.

You weren’t in a train car, alone and slowly bleeding out. You were in Alexandria, in a big blue house. Abraham and Rosita slept a few feet away from you, Abraham snoring softly into Rosita’s hair. The clock on the wall ticked softly, reading a few minutes past midnight. 

As quietly as you could manage, you untangled yourself from the blanket and stumbled to the front door. 

Out on the porch, you took in several deep breaths of the cool night air, pressing your palms against the railing as a reminder that  _ this  _ was real. 

“Dreams again?” 

You turned quickly, stifling a gasp at the voice. 

Daryl sat on the other side of the pillar to your left, perched on top of the railing. A cigarette hung from his lips, glowing red in the darkness. 

You relaxed, leaning back against the railing.

“Yeah.” 

Daryl hummed, looking at you for a moment before turning his gaze back out towards the silent street. 

“I had a blanket.” You said after a moment. “Hoped the warmth would help like you said. Apparently not.” 

Daryl was quiet again, the soft, waiting-to-say-something look returning to his face. He glanced at you, and then looked away again. 

“Maybe ‘s cuz yer sleepin’ alone.” 

His words hung in the air for a moment as you took your turn to stare blankly at him. Finally, you managed a reply, soft and thoughtful. 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a while longer, letting the faint sound of crickets fill the air. You looked up at the stars, bright and clear and ever-constant no matter where you traveled. 

Sleep began creeping its way back into your mind, clouding your thoughts. You yawned, covering your mouth with your hand. 

Daryl finished his cigarette, dropping the end and getting down off the railing to crush it under his boot. 

“S’late.” He nudged your shoulder, moving back towards the front door. 

Daryl walked inside with you, treading softly by your side back to where you’d been asleep before. You lay down on your back, mind buzzing with confusion as he lay down next to you. You shifted onto your side, turning your back to him and leaving a few inches of space between your bodies. 

But the more you thought about it, the more you knew he was right. The nightmares never bothered you unless you were alone. They never bothered you if  _ he _ was there.

Trepidation pulsed through your body as you slowly reached behind you until you found his hand. Your fingers closed around his and you waited. 

After a moment, his hand closed around yours and squeezed gently. 

Feeling braver, you began to slowly move your hands together. But no matter how much time you gave him to pull away, he didn’t. 

Finally, you settled his hand at your stomach, Daryl’s arm now wrapped around your waist. 

Daryl shifted closer. With his chest pressed against your back and his arm tightening around you, you felt warm and safe and incredibly  _ sleepy _ . 

Closing your eyes, you relaxed against him. You were asleep in minutes, his soft breaths against the back of your neck coming in time with your own as the two of you dreamt side by side. 


	5. Chapter 5

Your feet pounded out a steady beat against the pavement, resonating through your body. Taking in each breath through your nose and exhaling through your mouth, you jogged through the streets of Alexandria. 

Already, your mind felt clearer. 

Once jumbled thoughts and emotions began to sort themselves out, softening the cacophony in your head. 

On one hand, you were nervous. In just a few hours you had to report to the infirmary for your first day of work. You had a sinking feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t shake. 

One the other hand, you were confused. More specifically, you were confused about Daryl. 

When you’d woken up this morning, Daryl was gone. Your heart sank slightly, disappointed by his absence. But as you sat up, bleary-eyed and confused, something soft and warm slid from into your lap from where it had been tucked around your shoulders. 

Daryl’s vest.

You ran your hands over the leather, tracing each sewn feather of the wings decorating the back. 

You understood a few minutes later, when you passed the bathroom on your way to find good running clothes, that he’d gotten up to take a shower. Smiling softly, you folded the vest and set it down outside the bathroom door for him to find. 

_ “You and Daryl...you’re close.” _ Deanna’s comment from yesterday echoed in the back of your mind as you ran.  _ “He didn’t hover outside the door while I spoke with Maggie or Glenn or Carl. He only started that when I asked you to come inside.” _

His face flashed before you, eyes portraying emotions he wouldn’t let out in words. 

_ “Maybe ‘s cuz yer sleepin’ alone. _ ” 

It wasn’t an explicit offer, but he hadn’t pulled away from you when you took his hand. He’d stayed. And he was right. You slept better last night, with his arm tight around your waist and his chest pressed against your back, than you had since before the turn. 

But what did it mean? 

You came around a corner, heading in the direction of the front gate when someone stepped into your path. Skidding to a stop, you barely avoided running straight into them as adrenaline spiked through your veins and your hand went to the knife strapped to your hip. 

“Woah, sorry!” 

You relaxed somewhat, dropping your hand from the weapon as you recognized Spencer. 

“Jesus,” You panted, heart still pounding. “Don’t jump in front of me like that.” 

He held up his hands in a show of surrender, smiling apologetically. “Sorry. I, uh, wanted to get your attention but I guess I should have called out or something instead.” 

“Yeah.” You settled your hands on your hips. “What did you want?” 

“Right, yeah. I just wanted to talk a little.” Spencer shifted awkwardly, looking back at the house behind him. “Did you want to come inside? I could make some coffee or something.”

You tilted your head, trying to figure out what exactly was  _ happening _ right now. 

“Um…that’s a very kind offer but I should probably be heading back anyway. First day at the infirmary today. I should get ready…” 

“Of course!” Spencer nodded vigorously. “Well, can I walk you home instead?” 

It was almost funny. Before the turn, before surviving alone, before Beth’s death, before  _ everything _ , you would have agreed in a heartbeat. Spencer was everything you would have wanted back then, tall, charming, well-educated, strong jawline…

But you felt nothing. No butterflies in your stomach, no attraction, no desire to get to know him further than you already had. 

Still, if you wanted this to work– if you wanted Alexandria to give you a chance, you had to give Alexandria a chance. Clueless boys and all. 

“Sure,” You smiled. “That sounds nice.” 

Spencer grinned, gesturing for you to lead the way. You fell into step together, walking back towards the house. 

“So,” You glanced at him, “What did you want to talk about?” 

“I don’t really know.” Spencer laughed, shrugging. “I guess I should apologize for yesterday. I made some assumptions…” 

You waited for a moment for the actual apology. But he just kept walking as though ‘I should apologize’ did the trick. 

You repressed the urge to roll your eyes. 

“But, um, my mom also thought it would be a good idea for me to get to know you better.” 

“Really?” You blinked, incredulous. 

“I think she thinks you’d be a good influence on me or something.” 

Your stomach twisted, hearing those same words in Hershel’s gentle fatherly tone as he welcomed you into his home. 

“You know, because you’re my age and you seem smart and you know what it’s like out there and stuff.” Spencer continued. “So you like running?” 

“It helps clear my head.” 

“I get that.” Spencer nodded. “I used to row crew. The repetitive exercise made me feel clearer too.” 

You could see the house now, with its pale blue paint and big porch. A familiar figure sat outside, perched on the railing with his crossbow in his lap. 

“Isn’t it hard to run without music? I think I’d just hate it.” 

Daryl looked up from fiddling with the bow, catching your gaze from several yards away. Without really thinking about it, you started to walk faster. 

“If I’m struggling I’ll think of songs in my head.” You said absently. “But it’s not like I have access to an iPod or anything anymore.” 

“Yeah…” Spencer mused, struggling to keep up as you reached the house.

You jogged up the steps of the porch, flashing Daryl a smile as you reached the top. He held your gaze for a second, his expression stony and unreadable. Confusion and curiosity twinged in your chest. 

You turned back towards Spencer, “Well, thanks for walking me back—”

“Of course, yeah.” Spencer looked up at you, setting a hand on the railing. “Listen, Mom is putting together this welcoming party thing for your group tonight at our place. You should totally come.” 

From his spot, Daryl let out a scoff, giving Spencer the side-eye. You suddenly felt restless and awkward. 

“I’ll try.” You said, needing Spencer to just  _ go away now _ . 

“Great.” Spencer flashed his charming smile again. “We can talk some more.” 

“Maybe!” You chirped, gesturing awkwardly towards the house. “Gotta stretch and shower now…” 

“Right, yeah.” He started to back away. “See you later then.” 

“Yup.” You nodded. “See you.” 

Once there was a suitable amount of distance between you, you slumped against the railing beside Daryl. 

“I thought he’d never leave.” You sighed, looking at the archer with a knowing smile. 

“Ya seemed pretty friendly.” Daryl grunted, keeping his eyes on the crossbow as he worked to clean it. 

Your smile shrank, confusion sparking at his cold tone. “He ran into me and offered to walk me back. I was just trying to be polite…”

Daryl scoffed, his shoulders tensed. 

“Hey, you okay?” You reached out to touch his shoulder. 

Daryl shifted away from you. You stopped, hand frozen in midair for a moment before you slowly lowered it to your side again. Hurt twisted in your chest. 

“Okay, then.” You stepped back, looking down at the wooden floor. “I’ll leave you be.” 

You turned and headed inside, more than ready to wash the interaction from your body even though you already knew it would plague your mind for the rest of the day. 

~

You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was something about the doctor that you didn’t like. 

When you walked into the infirmary he was sitting behind a desk, his feet propped up on the tabletop as he sipped  _ something  _ from out of a coffee mug. He hadn’t moved from his relaxed pose once, not to shake your hand or offer you a seat or to show you around the infirmary. He’d just sat back as he talked at length about his highlights from the operating room at Bethesda. 

“Dr. Anderson,” You spoke up at the first lull in his monologue, “Your work sounds very impressive. But I was wondering if we could discuss my role here.” 

“Call me Pete,” He took another sip from his mug as if he hadn’t heard anything else you’d just said. 

“Okay...” You took a deep breath, reminding yourself to stay patient and calm. “I’m here at Deanna’s request to be a...an aide of sorts. Or a nurse, I suppose. I’m not a licensed doctor but I have medical training and experience and I’d like to help where I can.” 

“How old are you?” Pete leaned further back in his chair and eyed you up and down with more than just a physician’s gaze. 

“I’m not entirely sure.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s hard to keep track of time out on the road. Twenty feels about right, though.” 

Pete hummed thoughtfully, swinging his legs down off his desk and standing up. His posture was terrible– he stood with slumped shoulders and his head slightly bowed as he moved closer. 

“Twenty…” He mused, smirking as he looked down at you. “So your medical training has all been after the roamers took over? You never went to school.” 

“I had an education.” You assured him. “I was taught by two very skilled doctors and a registered nurse. We don’t exactly have medical schools anymore anyway, right?” 

“When was your last physical?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’ve been out there for a while, right? Must have been some time since your last check-up.” Pete stepped closer, now looming over you. 

You stepped back, unease settling in the pit of your stomach. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“Seriously, let me take a look at you.” Pete pressed, moving closer again. 

You backed up several steps, hissing in surprise as your back hit the exam table, trapping you. 

“Really, I know how to do a basic check-up. I’m fine.” You insisted. 

“Come on now, you’re looking at an expert. Better safe than sorry–” 

His hands grasped your waist, as if to lift you up onto the exam table. Before he could get any farther, your knee made contact with his groin. 

Pete cried out, his hands dropping from your sides. You shoved him backwards, his large form bumping against his desk. The coffee mug slid off, spilling its contents as it shattered on the floor. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” He bent over, hands clutching at his crotch. 

“I said no.” You said, voice low and serious. “Do you have ice packs?” 

“Freezer is by the windows.” Pete hissed, glaring at you. 

Calmly, you walked over and pulled one out. You handed it to him and he pressed it to the front of his pants. 

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing–” 

“Do you normally assault your patients?” You cut him off. “Or just the young female ones?” 

“ _ What _ ?” He looked absolutely livid, like he wanted to hit you.

“You touch me again, and I will do  _ so  _ much worse than kick you in the balls.” You looked him dead in the eye. 

You could see each emotion as it passed across his face– rage, annoyance, frustration, and then defeat. 

“You wanted to know your role?” He spat. “Well here it is: you’re here all day, every day. Every fucking day. If you know so much,  _ you _ handle Mrs. Jenkins’ arthritis and Olivia’s headaches and whatever other stupid shit walks through the door. I don’t need to deal with it. If there’s something big, I want you out of here. I can’t have some prissy-pants little bitch ruining an operation.” 

You set your jaw, seriously fighting the urge to punch him in the face. “Fine.” 

“Great. You can start right now.” Pete tossed the ice pack onto the floor and headed for the front door. “And clean up the mess you made while you’re at it.” 

Mumbling various curses aimed at the male species under your breath, you got to work cleaning up the broken mug. After throwing away shards, you knelt down to deal with the dark liquid, getting a strong whiff of coffee mixed with whisky. 

“Fucking of course.” You muttered, mopping it up with a towel. 

You spent the next few hours familiarizing yourself with the space. You went through every bottle in the medicine cabinet, every drawer of bandages and surgical supplies, and pulled out every medical book you could find. 

You were trying to work your way through  _ Gray’s Anatomy _ , but you couldn’t get Pete’s face out of your mind– drunk and leering one minute and red with rage the next. He clearly had a problem, but it was more than that. Pete  _ was _ a problem. 

And you couldn’t leave that unchecked. 

As much as you didn’t want you, you knew you needed to go to the welcome party tonight. You had a lot to talk about with Deanna and Rick. 

~

At some point in his life, whether it was at the moment of his birth or during a family vacation or his time studying abroad, Spencer Monroe had been given the gift of gab. 

The man would  _ not stop talking. _

Not that it mattered much, anyway. You weren’t listening and his non-stop blather meant you didn’t have to half-ass a reply.

Your attention was focused on the other side of the room. Pete had just joined the party, walking in with his wife and two sons. You recognized his wife– Jessie, the kind blonde woman who’d cut Rick’s hair the day before. The older son was talking with Carl and another boy while the younger son took off, putting red ‘A’ stamps on people’s hands. 

Your stomach twisted. This was more complicated than you hoped.

Pete scanned the room, gaze darkening instantly as he made eye contact with you. You felt a flare of anxiety in your chest at the threatening look in his eyes, but you held his gaze.

Then Jessie was grabbing his elbow and pulling him over to meet Rick and Judith. Rick smiled at her, but as she said her husband’s name you saw Rick’s smile fade and his shoulders tense. 

Rick glanced to the side, shooting you a look. You gave a small nod. Anger settled behind his eyes for a moment as he understood. You shook your head at that, flicking your eyes in Deanna’s direction. Rick clenched his jaw, but nodded back at you. Then the anger was gone, his expression turning into vague interest as he turned back to their conversation. 

When you came home earlier in the afternoon, the first thing you did was find Michonne. You wanted her with you in the room when you told Rick what happened. He was itching for a fight already, searching for a reason to take over Alexandria and make it what he wanted. 

You understood the desire. These people were like children– sheltered and ignorant. They lived like the world hadn’t changed. The biggest problems were not having the right ratio of ingredients in their meatloaf or the begonia wilting in their front yard. Most of them had no conception of the harsh reality beyond the walls. 

But there were better ways to teach them than by hostile takeover. You and Michonne both knew that and you needed to keep Rick off of the warpath. 

After some shouting and a fair amount of argument, he’d begrudgingly agreed to let you talk to Deanna before he did anything about it. As much as Rick might wish differently, Deanna was still in charge.

You spotted her then, saying a cordial goodbye to some resident or another on her way to another room. 

“I have to use the bathroom.” You interrupted Spencer’s story about some camping trip he’d taken with his college buddies. 

“Oh, uh, okay. Do you want me to–” 

“I can find it on my own, thanks.” You waved him off, starting towards the former Congresswoman. 

“Deanna,” You called, catching up to her just outside the kitchen. 

She turned, smiling widely as she put a face to the voice. “Y/N, it’s so nice to see you. How are you enjoying the party?” 

“It’s very nice.” You managed a smile. “I’d like to talk with you about something if you have a moment.” 

“Of course. What would you like to talk about?” 

You glanced to your right, seeing Rick and Jessie talking alone. Unease settled in your stomach as you couldn’t find Pete anywhere in sight. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking back to Deanna. 

“Could we go somewhere private?” 

She frowned, looking at you with concern. “Yes of course. Why don’t we go upstairs and talk in my office.” 

You followed her to the second floor and down the hall a little ways to a comfortable office. Deanna gestured for you to sit on a small cushioned loveseat while she leaned against the front of her desk. 

“Is everything alright?” 

You took a breath, smoothing the fabric of your dress over your legs. “I wanted to talk about Pete. I think...I think he may be dangerous.”

Deanna’s shoulders lowered, as if expecting something much worse. From the look on her face, you got the unfortunate feeling she already knew what you were about to say. 

“This morning when I reported to work, he offered to give me a physical. I turned him down, but he wouldn’t back off. He tried to force me onto the exam table and I fought back. He knocked over his mug of coffee and when I cleaned it up later I realized he’d been drinking. Deanna...I haven’t been here long, so I don’t know if this is the first time something like this has happened but he clearly has a problem.” 

Deanna sighed. “Y/N...I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m glad you were able to defend yourself.” 

“Thank you,” You sat up straighter, looking Deanna in the eye. “But what are you going to do to prevent further problems?” 

“I’ll have Olivia put a limit on his alcohol consumption from the pantry and I’ll draw up a new schedule for the infirmary. You’ll have alternating shifts so you won’t have to interact with him.” 

“Deanna, I don’t think you understand. I’m not worried about myself. I don’t think he should be allowed–”

“I can’t do that.” Deanna interrupted, her tone cold. “I’m sorry.” 

“Deanna–” 

“He’s a valuable resource, Y/N. If someone gets shot, if someone gets bitten and the limb has to be amputated, if a woman is pregnant and has to give birth, I need Pete here.” 

“I can–” 

“You’re twenty years old, Y/N. You’re here to learn and to help. Not to perform surgeries you’re not trained for. I’m sorry about what happened today, but I cannot in good conscience sacrifice the good I  _ know  _ Pete will do for this community in order to prevent the bad that he  _ might _ do.” 

You let out a breath, blinking at her in utter disbelief. 

“Deanna–” 

“Thank you for bringing it to my attention.” Deanna opened the study door for you, “Please, go enjoy the rest of the party.” 

You stopped in the doorway, frustration making your palms itch as you looked at her. 

“You’re making a mistake, Deanna.” You warned, pleading with your eyes. 

“I’ll have the new schedule ready for you tomorrow.” 

You walked out of the study and back downstairs, putting all of your focus on keeping your emotions in check. You felt the anger and dismay swirling in your stomach. 

“Hey, you okay?” Glenn caught your arm, next to him, Maggie mirrored his concerned expression. 

“I’m fine.” You breathed. “Just tired. I think I’m gonna head back.”

“Want us to walk you?” Glenn offered, clearly not reassured by your lie. 

“No, it’s okay.” You managed a smile. “You should stay. A big group leaving early might send the wrong message.” 

“Okay…” 

You continued on your way before they saw through you completely, dodging Spencer just in time to make it out the front door and into the cool freedom of the night air. Storming a few paces down the porch, you hit your palm against one of the big white pillars in frustration. 

“Dammit.” You hissed, running a hand through your hair as you walked down the steps and into the street, heading for home. 

Just past the Monroe’s lawn, movement caught your eye. You stopped, making out a familiar figure emerging from the shrubbery. 

Daryl studied you with a curious but guarded look, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He’d put on a new shirt, dark and long-sleeved under his signature vest. He looked good, but that only made you feel more annoyed. 

“Get sick a’ bein’  _ polite _ to Spencer?” Daryl asked, glancing back towards the golden glow of the party. 

You rolled your eyes. “Spencer’s the least of my worries right now.” 

“‘S that supposed t’mean?” Daryl narrowed his eyes as he pulled his hands from his pockets and stepped closer to you.

“When I went to the infirmary today, the doctor–Pete, he was drunk and grabbed me so I–” 

Daryl’s eyes went wide with shock before quickly darkening into something angry and dangerous. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, Daryl swung around and stalked towards the house. 

“Daryl, wait–” You ran after him, putting yourself in his path. 

“‘M gonna kill ‘im.” Daryl growled, looking past you towards the house. 

“You don’t even know who he  _ is _ , Daryl.” 

“Don’t matter.” Daryl tried to push past you. “He hurt ya, an’ now he’s gonna pay.” 

“Just wait a second, okay? Let me finish.” You planted your hands against his chest, forcing him to look at you. “I didn’t let him hurt me. He left in worse shape than I did, okay? But this is complicated. More complicated than just going in there with your fists flying. I talked to Rick and Michonne. I talked to Deanna. I want to do something about this. I  _ have _ to, or he’s going to actually hurt somebody. And I hate it, but we can’t do anything about it right now.” 

“Th’hell I can’t. Can end this right now.”

“We  _ need  _ this place, Daryl.” You insisted, holding his gaze. “We were out there for...we were out there too long. We need this place and this place needs  _ us _ . We gotta be careful about this. Please let it go. Just for right now.” 

Daryl glared over your shoulder at the house, jaw clenching. 

“For me?” You added in a whisper. 

Daryl’s gaze softened instantly, his blue eyes meeting yours under the dim light of the suburban street. His shoulders relaxed slightly as he shifted backwards. 

“Fine.” Daryl muttered, turning away from the house. “But I’m takin’ ya home. Don’ want ya near that asshole.” 

“Fine by me.” You agreed, falling into step beside him as you walked down the quiet street. 

About halfway down the street, someone flicked on their porch lights. You and Daryl turned to see Aaron opening his front door and stepping outside. 

“Hey, Daryl. Y/N.” He called, smiling at you. 

“I thought ya were goin’ to that party over there.” Daryl gestured back down the street. 

Aaron followed with his gaze briefly before turning back with a shrug. “Oh, I was never going to go ‘cause of Eric’s ankle. Thank God.” 

“Why the hell’d ya tell me t’go, then?” 

“I said try.” Aaron said, glancing between the two of you. “You did. It’s a thought that counts thing.” 

“All right.” Daryl nudged your shoulder, turning back towards the street. 

“Hey, come in. Have some dinner.” Aaron offered, turning towards the house. “It’s some pretty serious spaghetti.” 

Despite everything, despite your confusion about where you and Daryl stood with each other, despite your anger with Pete, and despite your frustration with Deanna, you laughed. You’d never heard anyone sound  _ so incredibly _ like a suburban dad in your life. 

Daryl stared at you, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched you chuckled and shake your head at Aaron. You glanced over at the archer, smiling. 

“Well if it’s  _ serious  _ spaghetti…” You teased, nodding your head towards the house. “Why don’t we give it a try? It’s this or peanut butter and jelly again.” 

“Fine.” Daryl grumbled, following you up the steps and into Aaron’s house. 

Aaron and Eric had a lovely home. It was one of the smaller houses in the town, but in Alexandria that meant it was still huge. You immediately made Eric stop hobbling around the kitchen on his crutches, sitting down at the table across from him and asking various questions about his recovery while Aaron set down two extra plates and brought out the food. Aaron sat down next to you on one side of the table while Daryl sat next to Eric on the other. 

Aaron opened a bottle of wine, filling up each glass around the table. As he reached over and started to pour the deep red liquid, you glanced up at him, slightly surprised. He paused, confused. 

“What...oh, are you–” 

“Old enough.” You answered, picking up the glass. “Just never...never tried it before.” 

You took a tentative sip, unable to stop yourself from making a face at the sour bitterness of it. 

“That was kind of disgusting.” You said, despite already raising the glass to take another sip. 

“It gets better.” Aaron chuckled, setting the bottle down. 

You glanced at Daryl across the table, confused by the strange look in his eyes. It was almost like he’d seen a ghost. 

Worry sparked through your chest, but you decided it as best not to ask him about it in front of the others. So you turned your attention to Aaron, asking whether or not he planned to resume his license plate collecting again. 

The spaghetti may have been serious, but your conversation flowed nicely. Well, your and Aaron and Eric’s conversation. Daryl didn’t do much more than slurp his spaghetti and turn his head sharply to stare at you every time you laughed. 

Which was happening more often. Aaron was funny. And so was Eric. You felt much less troubled now, getting to the end of your second glass of wine. Your head was a bit fuzzy and you felt warm despite your shoulders bared by the tiny straps of your dress. You definitely weren’t sober anymore, but you were just drunk enough not to care.

“When you’re out there,” Eric turned to Daryl, “If you happen to be in a store or something, Mrs. Neudermyer is really looking for a pasta maker. And we’re all really trying to get her to shut up about it. I mean, we have  _ crates _ of dried pasta in here, but she wants to make her own or something. I really think she just wants something to talk about, so...if you see one on your travels it would go a long way to–” 

Eric finally caught Aaron’s pointed look from across the table. Then he noticed the confusion written on both yours and Daryl’s faces. 

“I thought it was done.” Eric said. “You didn’t ask him already?” 

Aaron shook his head. 

“Ask me what?” Daryl rasped. 

Aaron set his napkin down and pushed back from the table. 

“I’d like to show you something in the garage.” Aaron stood, nodding back towards the kitchen. 

Daryl looked at you, as if unwilling to leave without you. You gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Go ahead. I want to talk to Eric about his ankle a bit more.” 

Daryl hesitated for a moment before giving in and following Aaron out of the dining room. 

“Well that was stupid of me.” Eric sighed, flashing a self-deprecating smile. 

“I’d tell you it wasn’t, but...I don't know what’s going on.” You giggled. 

“With my ankle and Aaron being, well,  _ Aaron  _ he doesn’t want me going on recruitment runs anymore. He asked Deanna not to give Daryl a job so he could ask him himself. But apparently I got a little ahead of things there.” 

You sat back, taking in Eric’s words. 

“Oh,” You breathed. “That’s perfect. Daryl is the best man for that job. I mean, he’s the best man for anything anyway, and the best man I know in general but he’s  _ perfect _ for that job.” 

Eric tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face as he listened to you ramble. 

“He knows how to tell good people from bad people  _ like that _ and he’s the best tracker and fighter and he’ll look after Aaron for sure. He looks after everyone. I try to look after him too, but I think he needs to be out there sometimes. Not forever, but this place isn’t him. I’m not sure it’s me either but I sort of have to stay now. Which reminds me– your ankle!” 

Eric chuckled. “What about my ankle?” 

“I can give you some strengthening exercises to do in about a week or so. It’ll make sure you don’t feel all wobbly for the rest of your life.” You offered. 

Eric smiled. “That would be amazing.”

“Great. I’ll come by and teach you some of the easy-peasy ones.”

“‘Easy-peasy?’” Eric echoed. 

“Yeah!” 

Eric laughed lightly, pushing his chair back and grabbing his crutches. “I’m going to run– well, hobble –to the bathroom. I’ll be back in just a bit.” 

“Okie-dokie,” You nodded, gathering up the empty plates as he made his way out of the room. 

You brought everything into the kitchen, depositing the dishes into the sink. A few feet down the hallway, you saw an open door with bright light spilling out of it. Walking closer, you heard the soothing tones of Aaron’s voice. 

“I don’t want Eric risking his life anymore.” 

“Ya want me risking mine, right?” Daryl replied. 

“Yeah, because you know what you’re doing. You’re good out there, but you don’t belong out there. I know it’s hard getting used to people getting used to you and I understand right now you need to be out there sometimes. So do I. But the main reason I want you to recruit is you do know the difference between a good person and a bad person.”

You paused beside the door, just listening as warmth spread through your chest at Aaron’s insightful words. 

“You surround yourself with good people. You have their backs. But you chose people who have your back, too. You found that barn for your group but Y/N was right behind you, watching the woods in case anything came out at you. She was there even though you didn’t need it. She was there, just in case. I want you to help me find more people like that.” 

Your heart beat faster, your mind racing as you wondered how Daryl had reacted to Aaron’s confession. 

Silence stretched on between them for another moment before you heard his husky grumble. 

“I got nothin’ else to do.” Daryl said. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll get ya some rabbits.” 

Aaron laughed at that. You seized the opportunity, not wanting to eavesdrop anymore but also not wanting to interrupt another serious moment, and opened the garage door wider. 

“Is he doing his stand-up routine for you?” You asked, swaying only slightly on the steps down into the garage. 

“Careful,” Daryl rasped, moving quickly over to you in case you fell. 

“I’m good.” You chirped, “But my face is kinda hot and my mouth is dry and my head is a little fuzzy.” 

The corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched, forming a small smile. 

“You’re the medical expert here, Y/N, but if I had to diagnose you, I’d say you’re feeling a little drunk right now.” Aaron chuckled. 

“I only had  _ two _ glasses.” You protested. 

“An’ that’s a lot for never havin’ had’t before.” Daryl let his hand rest on the small of your back, his touch warm and steady and more than a little bit distracting. “Let’s get ya home.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but you quickly realized you wanted nothing more than for this man to walk you back to a nice comfortable bed and hold you until you fell asleep. 

“Okay.” You agreed softly, turning to Aaron with a smile. “Thank you for having us over. Your spaghetti was just as delicious as it was serious.” 

Aaron smiled amusedly as you laughed at your own joke, waving as Daryl led you back out to the street. 

The two of you strolled the rest of the way in silence. Daryl seemed lost in his thoughts while you simply tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other rather than the feeling of his hand against your back. 

You were still the first to arrive back, finding the house dark and empty. Daryl walked upstairs, keeping a hand on your elbow to keep you steady as you climbed to the second floor. Crossing the doorway into one of the bedrooms, you beelined for the bed while Daryl fumbled for a light source. By the time he’d flicked on a lamp, you were laying face down on the mattress. 

“Hey, ain’t time for that yet.” 

“But I’m sleepy...” You whined, rolling over onto your back. “Come lay with me.” 

Daryl’s eyes widened slightly, his ears reddening. Then he turned around, busying himself with searching the drawers of the dresser by the wall until he found what he was looking for. He returned, holding a folded tee shirt and pair of pajama pants in his arms. 

“Here.” He mumbled, not quite looking at you. “Put these on. Imma get ya some water.” 

“Fine.” You relented, kicking off your shoes as he walked back out the door. 

You pulled your dress over your head and tossed it haphazardly onto the floor. The tee shirt was pretty easy, and you only tripped twice getting the pants on. 

By the time Daryl returned, you were sitting on the edge of the bed with the shirt pulled a few inches above your belly button, inspecting the swath of bruises turned a shade darker since the day before. You prodded one tentatively, wincing at the tenderness of your skin. 

Daryl set the glass of water down on the bedside table, coming to kneel in front of you. He moved your hands away from your stomach, staring at the purple marks for a moment before looking up at you– his expression a mixture of anger and sadness. 

“S’this...did he–?” 

“This wasn’t Pete.” You squeezed Daryl’s hands, feeling suddenly much more sober than you had a moment before. “Actually, it was Aaron.” 

“ _ What? _ ” 

You gripped his hands tightly, pulling him back as he stood and tried to move away from you. “Let me explain.” 

Daryl huffed, dropping down next to you on the edge of the bed. You lowered your shirt and turned, tucking one leg under yourself to face him properly. 

“On the road, after we hit the herd, we kept driving because you were right behind us and Glenn didn’t want you to hit us. We stopped and I got out to try and clear the engine and that’s when we saw the flare. When I went around to talk to the others, Aaron kicked the door open and it hit me.” You explained. “I didn’t know then, obviously, but that was Eric calling for help. To Aaron, I was just another thing standing between him and helping the one person he loves most in the world. If I’d been in his position...well, I feel lucky to have gotten out of there with just a few bruises.” 

Daryl was quiet, picking at the skin on the side of his thumb. 

“I like him a lot.” You continued, “He sees you, Daryl. He sees your skills and your value. He’s a little bit like you, too— a good guy with a good heart. Somebody who cares.” 

You were rambling again, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. 

_ “And _ he’ll have your back out there, which makes me feel a hell of a lot better about you going out to do this.” 

Daryl looked up, Georgia sky eyes meeting your own. 

“Why’d ya follow me?” Daryl asked in a low rasp. “At the barn. Why’d ya follow me?” 

“‘Cause I should have gone back into the room.” 

“What?” Daryl furrowed his brow.

You took a breath, knowing you shouldn’t say what you were about to say. 

“I was there, when you came back to the farm after your fall. I saw Andrea shoot you. It was my room they took you to. I was there...I bandaged your head.” 

You reached up, brushing his hair gently out of the way, exposing the thin scar at the side of his head. Daryl let you gently touch the mark, his eyes fluttering closed. You moved your hand down to take his as you continued speaking. 

“And I saw your scars.” You admitted. “I saw what happened to you and I...I was  _ so angry _ . I wanted to do something– to hit someone or wake you up or hug you. I wanted to be your friend and show you you were better than whoever had done something like that. But Hershel came in and told me to leave. He told me not to come back in while you were there. And I listened to him.” 

Daryl let out a shaking breath. “Ya didn’ even know me.” 

“I’d seen you.” You said, smiling softly. “Going out looking for Sophia, hunting for food, protecting everybody. But nobody was protecting you. That’s why I followed you. I...I wanted to protect you, too.” 

“Why didn’ ya say nothin’ before?” Daryl searched your face. “At the prison or on the road, ya never...I thought–I dunno.”

“I was–God, I don’t know, Daryl. People are stupid sometimes. I’m stupid sometimes.” 

“Nah, you ain’t.” Daryl murmured. “Never were.” 

“Well, I’m sorry.” You sighed, “Sorry it took so long.” 

Daryl ran his thumb over your knuckles, his gaze soft and thoughtful. “Should get some sleep or the hangover’ll be worse.”

“Ugh,” You groaned, pressing your hand to your forehead. “I didn’t even like it that much.” 

Daryl huffed out a husky laugh, getting up and pulling the covers back for you. You shuffled underneath and scooted over to the other side of the bed. 

But Daryl didn’t join you. He turned off the lamp and started towards the door. 

“Daryl,” You called, some leftover boldness remaining. 

He paused in the doorway, turning back to look at you. 

“Stay with me?” You asked, the request barely audible.

Daryl remained frozen for a moment, backlit by the dim glow of the hallway. You wished you could see his face, see the truth of his emotions in his eyes. But you couldn’t. You didn’t know if you’d made a horrible mistake, bringing this  _ thing _ from unspoken to spoken and driving him away in the process. 

But then he was moving back towards you, carefully taking off his boots and pulling back the covers to slide into bed beside you. 

“Okay.”

“Okay,” You echoed, turning onto your side like you had the night before. 

After a moment, his arm slid around your waist and pulled you against his chest. You settled against him, feeling warmth and comfort settling into your bones. 

“Goodnight, Daryl.” You whispered. 

“‘Night, Y/N.”


	6. Chapter 6

The infirmary wasn’t a bad place to spend time. The house they chose for it was painted in soft pastel yellows and blues with lots of big windows to let in the sunshine. 

For a place that saw blood and injury and possibly death, it was cheerful and welcoming. In an odd way, the infirmary reminded you of Beth. Maybe that’s why you liked it so much. 

You always missed her, but today the ache of loneliness was harder to ignore. 

Daryl left this morning, riding off on his brand new motorcycle ahead of Aaron’s car, going off to recruit more people for the community. 

“How long will you be out there?” You’d asked, standing beside his bike as Aaron finished getting ready. 

“Dunno.” Daryl shrugged. “Long as it takes, I guess.”

“Oh,” Your heart sank slightly at the thought of being apart for days...maybe even weeks. 

“Not more’n a week.” Daryl amended, chewing on the side of his thumb as he looked at you. “Aaron’ll want t’come back. For Eric.”

“Right, yeah.” You nodded quickly. “Of course.” 

“Ya gonna be alright?” Daryl asked, concern flashing behind his eyes as if to add ‘ _ without me _ .’ “Told Rick t’keep an eye on that doctor while I’m gone. If he tries  _ anything _ –” 

“I’ll be okay. He knows not to mess with me.” You smiled gently. “I’ll take care of myself. You worry about keeping yourself safe out there, okay?” 

Daryl scoffed, like you were silly for even asking. 

“I’m serious.” You murmured, touching his shoulder. “Come back.”

You swallowed the ‘ _ to me’ _ before it could tumble out. Daryl met your gaze, the emotion in his eyes unreadable. He took your hand and pulled it off his shoulder, squeezing gently. 

“I will.” 

“Good,” You smiled, squeezing back. “I’ll be waiting.” 

And you were. You’d spent almost all day in the infirmary, continuing to explore the tools and patient files in between reading chapters from another medical textbook. 

It was a slow day. One of the elderly couples, Esther and Harold, came in to say hello and bring you an ornamental potted plant for the window. Esther had been a botanist and Harold had worked on the White House gardening staff before retirement. You chatted with them for a while, hearing stories about their lives before the turn. You smiled and nodded and tried not to let the wistful sadness you felt show. 

An hour or so after Esther and Harold left, Rick dropped by. He paced for a while, agitated from his own conversation about Pete with Deanna. Apparently you weren’t the only one he’d tried to hurt. According to Carol, he was beating Jessie and breaking things around their home in a drunk rage. 

“He’s dangerous.” 

“He can’t  _ live  _ here.” Rick seethed, eyes flashing with the murderous intent you recognized all too well. 

“Rick, we can–” 

“I’m gonna take care of it.” Rick promised, voice low. 

You were about to argue further when the infirmary door slammed open. Glenn and Eugene burst through, carrying an unconscious Tara between them. 

“She hit her head.” Glenn said, out of breath and filled with worry. 

“I have applied pressure to the wound, but the amount of blood is significantly greater than–” 

“Get her up on the table.” You interrupted Eugene’s long-winded explanation, pulling on a pair of plastic gloves and moving over to the table. 

Tara’s skin is sallow, blood dripping down the side of her face and into her hair. For just an instant, you see Beth– pale-faced and lifeless, with blood in her hair. 

But then you’re back. This is different. You can save Tara. 

“What happened?” Rick questioned Glenn as you rip open a package of sterilizing wipes and start to clean the wound on her head. “Where are the others?”

“We lost Aidan and–and Noah.” 

Your chest tightened, that familiar sense of loss twisting in your stomach. You’d liked Noah. And now he was gone too. 

“There were turned soldiers inside and Aidan shot a grenade–” 

“What can I do?” Eugene stood on the other side of the table, stiff and awkward. 

“Take this, and gently dab around the gash.” You nodded towards the cloth. “I have to get her an IV. She’s lost too much fluid.” 

Eugene did as he was told, taking over while you prepped the bag and wheeled it closer. You were checking her hand for a vein when the door opened again, this time revealing a very angry.

“Get out. All of you.” Pete ordered, directing a glare in your direction. 

“It’s not even your shift.” You shot back. “I got this.”

“Nicholas came to get me. Apparently he’s the only one with any sense.” 

Rick didn’t hesitate, stepping closer to the taller man and glaring right back. “That’s my friend she’s trying to save over there. We’re not–” 

“Your  _ friend _ doesn’t need some kid with no medical experience. She needs a surgeon, and she’s running out of time.” Pete sidestepped Rick, moving towards Tara. “Now clear out.” 

“I can help.” You stood your ground. 

“You’ll only get in the way.” 

“I know what I’m doing.” You pleaded, trying to stay calm. 

“I’m not going to ask you again. Any of you.” 

Rick set his jaw, you could see the muscles clenching beneath his skin. He stalked over and grabbed your elbow, pulling you towards the door. 

“I’m not leaving you here with him.” He muttered in your ear, herding your little group out. 

You shook free long enough to turn and say one last thing to Pete. 

“If she dies,” You stared him dead in the eye. “It’s on you.” 

You pulled the door shut, storming past the others onto the sidewalk. You paced back and forth for a moment, battling the frustration and worry and  _ loss _ swirling within you. 

“Glenn, come with me.” Rick said, resting his hands on his belt. “I want to know exactly what happened out there.” 

“Y/N...go take a walk or something. I don’t want you around him, alright?” Rick ordered, walking back towards the house with Glenn. 

“Fine.” You huffed. 

“I believe my remaining in this exact spot will be advantageous for all parties involved.” Eugene said, sitting down on the front stoop. 

“Come get me when he leaves, okay?” You asked. “And thanks for helping in there.” 

Eugene twisted his mouth, a strange expression of guilt and thoughtfulness as he looked up at you. “You will be notified when the doctor is gone.” 

“Okay,” You managed a smile. “Thanks.”

As the sun sank lower in the sky beyond Alexandria’s walls, you wandered through the streets of Alexandria. 

You were worried. Worried about Tara, worried about what would happen with Pete, worried about Daryl. Outside the walls, anything could happen. He could crash his bike or get overrun by walkers or run into bad people. He might never come back. 

Nothing is ever guaranteed. Not anymore. 

You thought about Noah. That run today was supposed to be simple– easy in, easy out. But nothing ever goes as planned. 

Your heart ached as you thought about how much Noah believed in this place, eager to see it expand and become something bigger– something that would last. You thought about Beth. She’d believed the same of the prison. That it was somewhere for you to call home. A place all of you could stay and be happy and safe for a while.

You wished you could believe like they did. But you’d always been more cautious, less willing to get comfortable– always waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

You looked up, drawn from your thoughts by a voice off to your right. Eric sat on his porch, leg propped up on a little tea table. 

“Hey, Eric.” You walk closer, standing at the bottom of the steps. 

“You okay? This is the third time you’re passing my house in about half an hour.” Eric gestured to the empty chair next to him. “Want to sit for a while?” 

You thought about saying no, about continuing on your trek alone. 

“Sure,” You agree, climbing up to join him on the porch. “I might have to run back to the infirmary, though.” 

“I heard about the run.” Eric nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry about Noah. I hope Tara pulls through.” 

“Me too.” 

“How are you holding up?” 

“I’m fine.” You wave your hand, “Tara’s strong, she’ll bounce back. I just wish I could be there to help her.” 

“Oh,” Eric laughs lightly. “I meant with Daryl gone. I don’t quite know what to do with myself with Aaron away.” 

“Oh.” Your face grew warmer, feeling like you’d just been caught keeping a secret. 

Except you weren’t quite sure what that secret was. 

“Up until they came back it was a pretty slow day anyway.” You shrugged. “But, um, I do...I do sort of miss him.” 

“Yeah…” Eric hummed, waiting for you to continue. 

You looked out at the quiet neighborhood, struggling to find words for the emotions you’d been keeping inside for so long. 

“I’d normally talk about stuff with– with my best friend.”

“Beth, right?” 

“Yeah…” You pause, fidgeting with your hands. “After she...after she died I didn’t talk to anyone. I still don’t, not really. But I also distanced myself for a long time...I was in my head.” 

You take a deep breath, letting the truth out into the air. 

“But Daryl helped get me out of it. He’s...I don’t know. He’s confusing and doesn’t say what he means a lot of the time, but I miss him.” You flashed him a self-deprecating smile. “It’s stupid, I know.” 

“Oh, honey.” Eric put his hand on your knee. “It’s not stupid at all. It’s love.” 

Your eyes widened. “ _ What? _ ” 

“Come on,” Eric shook his head, smiling. “How could you not be in love with him? The man carried your unconscious body for a full mile! You should have seen the blind panic he was in when he showed up thinking your group had shot that flare. And he looks at you like you're the only thing in the world. I mean, I’m a little in love just thinking about it.”

“I don’t–I’m not–” You stuttered, “Um, that’s–he was panicking?” 

Eric laughed at that. “Full-on, ready to move heaven and earth kind of worried about you. Thank goodness for Maggie or else he would’ve gone out looking and probably made things worse.” 

“Oh.” 

“Aaron and I are the same way.” Eric said softly. “You’ve seen it.” 

Despite the torrent of butterflies in your stomach, a certain level of certainty settled over you– assurance and calm of knowing the truth. 

You opened your mouth to say something else, you weren’t even sure what, when you heard echoing of shouting voices from beyond the next row of houses. You stood up, eyes scanning the street for signs of trouble. 

“Y/N!” Carl ran around the corner, looking for you. 

In an instant, you were down the steps and running towards him. He skidded to a stop in front of you, out of breath. 

“We need you.” 

“I need to get supplies from the infirmary.” You said, already moving in the direction he’d come from. “What happened?”

“Dad and Pete got into a fight.” Carl explained as the two of you ran to the infirmary. “They broke through a window. And then Dad had a gun somehow. He was pointing it at everyone and yelling and then Michonne knocked him out.” 

“What about Pete?” You asked, leaving Carl in the doorway as you ran inside and grabbed the portable first aid kit.

“A couple of them took him away to another house. And Abraham is taking Dad to one of the brownstones.” Carl said, brow furrowed. “Do you think they’re going to make us leave?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “Let’s go see your dad.” 

Carl took you over the block of brownstones, leading you down to the basement of a still-unfinished apartment. Half of the unpainted space had been turned into a cell, with a bed in the corner and a big wooden latch on the outside of the door. 

Rick was unconscious when you arrived, his face cut and bleeding in several places. Michonne sat in a chair by the bed, watching him with an unreadable expression. She looked up as you walked in, giving you a nod. Carl moved to stand next to Michonne. She lifted her hand and let it rest on Carl’s back, rubbing gentle circles with her palm. 

You knelt by the side of the mattress, opening up your kit. 

“Do you know how it started?” You asked, getting out an alcohol swab to clean the cuts. 

“He was in their house.” Carl said. 

“Jessie…” You murmured, starting to put butterfly bandages over each gash. “He must have been talking to Jessie.”

“I’m going to stay until he’s up.” Michonne said. “We’ll get the whole story then.”

“Okay,” You nodded, packing up your stuff. “The cuts aren’t deep and should heal pretty fast. He’ll be fine apart from a headache tomorrow. I should spend tonight in the infirmary, keep an eye on Tara.” 

“Go,” Michonne nodded. “We’ll come get you if we need you.” 

~

Tara hadn’t woken up yet. From the moment you came back last night, you and Eugene were by her bedside. Now several hours past daybreak, she’d regained some of her color, and her heart rate remained steady, the calm beeping of the monitor fading into the background. 

Tara’s face looked innocent as she slept, the worries of this world wipes away by dreams, reminding you just how  _ young _ she actually was. How young  _ you  _ were, too. 

Even after everything fell apart at the beginning, you still felt like a kid. You were wide-eyed and inexperienced, soaking up everything you could with no real conception of what you would have to do to survive. 

But after the prison, you grew up– you grew up  _ fast _ . You had to. 

Because you were alone. 

No one left to protect you, no one left to teach you, no one left to tell you everything was going to be okay, that  _ you were going to be okay _ . 

You had to make it okay. You had to tell yourself it was okay, that it was what you had to do to survive. You had to believe that you would never see any of them ever again, because hoping would hurt too much. 

You had to be enough. Just you. 

And that made coming back even harder. 

_ You envied Tara, as stupid as it was, you were jealous that she’d had Glenn and they had Rosita and Abraham and Eugene and then  _ **_they_ ** _ had Maggie and Bob and Sasha. You knew she’d lost people. You knew she was struggling with the guilt of being part of what had destroyed your home and your family. You could see it all in her face.  _

_ But she could smile. She could sit with Glenn and Maggie and laugh. She could fist-bump Bob and swap quips with Abraham. She was already comfortable, settling into the warmth of the group–the safety.  _

_ And you couldn’t stop looking over your shoulder.  _

_ If old habits die hard, then new ones are invincible.  _

_ You couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all about to come crashing down around you. That the Governor would rise from the dead and take everyone away again; that you’d get thrown back into a train car without anyone to save you; that you’d wake up and realize the nightmares were your reality.  _

_ You used to sit in the middle of everything. You and Beth would huddle together, close to the fire as you talked with everyone and smiled and laughed and managed to  _ **_forget_ ** _ for a little while.  _

_ Now, you made a quiet excuse about redressing the wound in your shoulder and slipped away from the chatter. You stuck by the wall, listening and watching from the outskirts. You figured no one would notice. You weren’t anyone’s child or sibling or lover. You weren’t part of anyone’s group. Not anymore.  _

_ But then someone was sitting down beside you.  _

_ Daryl settled back against the wall, extending one leg and resting his arm on his still bent knee. Wordlessly, he held out his hand, offering a can of tinned pasta.  _

_ Taken off-guard, you looked down at the food and then back up at him. He tipped the can towards you, silently insisting.  _

_ You accepted, mumbling out a quiet “Thanks.”  _

_ He just grunted softly, more of an acknowledgement than a response. You turned your head back, staring into the too-bright red of the sauce as you picked at the food. The others continued to talk and plan, catching up on everything that’s passed since you lost each other.  _

_ You knew, even then, you’d never be able to say it. You’d never be able to express what you did, what it took, to stay alive.  _

_ You’d never be able to say it, but somehow, you knew he knew.  _

_ From the moment he looked at you, in the dim light of the train car, Daryl  _ **_knew_ ** _. He didn’t say anything. He still hadn’t, not really.  _

_ Daryl just looked at you, the whole haunted and bleeding mess of you, and understood. He’d stepped closer, fingertips brushing your shoulder as he looked at your hastily bandaged knife wound.  _

_ And then like nothing had happened at all, he’d turned away, helping Rick plan your escape. _

_ Daryl sat with you, silent and still, the rest of the night. You weren’t overcome with a sudden sense of clarity. Your heart didn’t skip a beat. You didn’t feel instantly better by his mere presence.  _

_ But a thin blanket of calm had settled across your shoulders. A small inkling of belonging had twinkled in your chest.  _

_ You hadn’t realized it then, but that was the beginning. _

Eugene’s snoring broke you from the memory, his breath catching in a loud snort as his head lolled to the side. You sit up straighter, stretching out your aching muscles from sitting so long in the chair beside Tara’s bed. 

You checked your watch, deciding it’s time to change her bandages. After a quick assessment of her vitals, you carefully unwrapped her head and checked the wound. Pete’s stitches were neat and precise, no sign of bleeding or infection. 

Just as you finished re-wrapping her head, the door opened, startling Eugene awake. Glenn stood in the doorway, looking tired and worried. 

“I’m going with Carol and Abraham to talk to Rick.” He said. “I think you should be there.” 

You nodded, before turning to Eugene. “Keep an eye on her and come get me if anything changes.” 

Eugene sat up a bit, shaking himself awake. “Affirmative.” 

When you arrived, Rick was already awake and talking to Michonne. The rest of you filed into the dingey space. 

“Where’d you get the gun?” Michonne asked. 

“You took it, right? From the armory?” Carol said. “That was stupid. Why’d you do it?” 

Rick stared at her for a moment, and you know there’s more going on than whatever was being said. 

“Just in case.” 

You glanced at Michonne. She met your gaze, sharing your suspicion through her eyes. 

“Deanna is planning to have a meeting tonight.” Glenn spoke. “For anyone who wants to.” 

“To kick Rick out?” Abraham asked. 

“To try.” Carol said. 

“We don’t know that.” Glenn argued. “Maggie’s with Deanna right now, trying to figure out what it is.” 

“At the meeting, you say you were worried about someone being abused and no one was doing anything about it. You say you took a gun just to be sure that Jessie was safe from a man who wound up attacking you. You say you’ll do whatever they want you to.” Carol said. “Just tell them a story they want to hear.” 

“But it’s not a story.” You looked between Carol and Rick. “It’s the truth. He’s dangerous and no one was doing anything.”

Rick looks away from you for a moment, his expression almost guilty. This wasn’t just about Pete or Jessie or you. This was about Rick. This is about his need to be in control. 

“It’s part of the truth.” Carol continued, “You show them the part of you they want to see. It’s what I’ve been doing since I got here.” 

“Why?” 

“Because these people are children and children like stories.”

“What happens after all the nice words and they still try to kick him out?” Abraham asked. 

“They’re guarding the armory now.” Glenn said.

“We still have knives.” Carol pointed out. “That’s all we’ll need against them.” 

“Well tonight at the meeting, if it looks like it’s going bad, I whistle. Carol grabs Deanna, I take Spencer,” Rick pointed to Michonne. “You grab Reg. Glenn, Abraham, and Y/N cover us and watch the crowd.” 

“It doesn’t have to go that way.” You argued. 

“We can talk to them.” Michonne added. 

“Yeah, we will.” Rick said. “If we can’t get through to them, we take the three of them and say we’ll slit their throats.” 

A sick feeling twisted in your stomach. This was wrong. This wasn’t who you were. 

“Like at Terminus.” Glenn said. 

“No, we just tell ‘em.” Rick said. “They give us the armory, and it’s over.”

Glenn’s voice came out low and serious. “Did you want this?” 

“No. I hit my limit. I– I screwed up.” Rick sighed, looking at you and then Michonne. “And here we are.” 

You set your jaw, mirroring the frustration in Michonne’s face. Rick lay back down, turning away from you onto his side. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to sleep some more.” 

You turned to leave first, moving between Carol and Abraham to get out the door. The others followed, Glenn jogging to catch up with you. 

“You should be at the meeting.” He said, walking with you back towards the infirmary. “Tell everyone what happened with Pete. Maybe if we make it about him, we won’t have to…” 

“Yeah.” You agreed. “But Glenn, I...I think this is going to go bad one way or another.” 

He was quiet for a moment, grimacing at his own thoughts. 

“We just have to do what’s right.” Glenn said. “That’s all we can do.” 

You sighed. “I just hope it’s enough.” 

When you got back to the infirmary, Eugene was asleep again. But Rosita was there too. 

“Hey,” She greeted you quietly, “She looks better.” 

“Yeah,” You agreed, looking over at Tara’s sleeping form. “Hopefully she’ll be up soon and we can make sure there hasn’t been any lasting brain damage.” 

Rosita settled her hands on her hips, studying you carefully. “When was the last time you slept?” 

You shrugged. “I’m fine.” 

“No.” She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that. We’re not out there anymore. You can rest.” 

“What if–” 

“Tara isn’t going anywhere. Hell, when she wakes up she’ll be more rested than you are.” Rosita steered you towards the door. “Go sleep for a few hours. We got this.” 

“If anything–” 

“I’ll come get you.” Rosita promised, practically shoving you out the door. 

You hovered on the porch, searching for another excuse to stay. After a moment, you came up empty. 

Rosita smiled softly. “You can’t take care of people if you don’t take care of yourself,  _ chiquita. _ ” 

You couldn’t help but smile at the nickname. “Thanks.” 

“Of course, it’s what family does.” Rosita said, closing the door. 

Turning around, you headed home. On your way, you passed some people you’d met at the welcome party, waving hello and returning their smiles. 

Carol said they were children, naive and ignorant. That might be true, but they also seemed so  _ happy _ , gardening and reading on their porches and chatting with their neighbors. You wanted to believe there could be an in-between, that you could teach them how to survive and they could remind you what it was like before everything was death. 

But you weren’t sure that could happen anymore. 

Carl was home when you arrived, sitting on the living room floor with Judith. You flicked the brim of his hat affectionately and pressed a kiss to the top of her head on your way upstairs, hoping against hope they wouldn’t have to say goodbye to their father tonight. Or worse, see him become something other than the man they loved. 

You hadn’t set foot in your room since yesterday morning, before Daryl left. The bed was still unmade, the blankets tangled with the sheets. You closed the curtains, blocking out as much early afternoon sunlight as you can before changing out of your day-old clothes and getting into bed. 

You weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep–with your worries for Tara and your unease about Rick and Daryl’s absence leaving the bed too big and too cold. But then you pulled the blankets up around you and turned your head into the pillow. 

Faint, but still definitely there, was the smell of leather and cigarettes and  _ Daryl. _ You closed your eyes and breathed it in, taking one breath at a time until you drifted off. 

~

You were back in the brownstone basement, checking on Rick. His cuts were already starting to heal, scabbing over underneath the bandages.

“I’ll get Spencer. You cover the crowd, keep them under control.” 

“Rick, it doesn’t have to go that way. It doesn’t  _ have _ to go bad. We can talk to them, we can make them see.” 

“They’re not like us.”

“It doesn’t have to be us and them.” You argued. “It can just be us. All of us.” 

Rick was quiet, watching you carefully. 

“We still have knives. That’s all we need against them.”

You shook your head. “You’re not listening to me. We don’t have to–” 

“I’m gonna take care of it.” 

“Rick–” 

Before you could finish, he was moving. You barely saw the knife drawn from under his pillow before it sank deep into your left shoulder, your body slamming into the floor by his weight and momentum. 

You woke up with a shout, your eyes snapping open. You sat bolt upright, clutching at your shoulder with your right hand, still feeling the blade tearing through your flesh. Heart pounding, you just sat there for a while, waiting for reality to sink back in. 

Eventually, your breathing slowed and the panic faded from your chest. You checked the clock beside your bed. You hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours, but you knew closing your eyes again would only bring more nightmares. So you slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom for a shower. 

Downstairs, with Rosita’s words echoing in your head, you made yourself something to eat– peanut butter and jelly –and took Judith for a while so Carl could have some time to himself. You bounced her gently on your hip, walking her around the house to admire the wall decorations. She was fascinated by the ceiling fan, content to stare up at the blades as they spun around and around and around. 

You sat with her until the sun began to set, keeping the warmth of her close to your heart. 

“Meeting’s going to start soon.” Michonne said, leaning against the doorway as Carl came in and took Judith back from you.

You took a deep breath, readying yourself. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

A small crowd had already gathered when you arrived, squeezing into a small courtyard in the center of town. Carol and Eugene and Abraham were there. You saw Jessie and Tobin too, with Maggie standing nearby. Glenn was missing. So was Rick. 

Eric sat to the right side, crutches leaning against his chair. He sent you a gentle smile, patting the empty seat beside him. 

“Hey,” You said, settling next to him. “How’s the ankle?” 

“Getting better every day. I think I’ll be ready for those exercises soon.” He said. 

“Listen, I’m sorry for running out on you last night.” 

“Don’t worry about it. It was much more important.” Eric gestures to the group. “Clearly.” 

“We’re going to start.” Deanna announced, the chatter quieting down. 

“Can we wait?” Maggie asked. “There’s still people coming. Glenn, Rick.” 

“We’re going to start.” Deanna repeated, putting her hands in her coat pockets. “It’s already dark. We’re going to talk about what happened. Not the fight. Not what precipitated it. We’re dealing with that. We’re going to talk about one of our constables, Rick Grimes. We’re going to talk about how he had a pistol he stole from the armory, about how he pointed it at people. And we’re going to talk about what he said. I was hoping he’d be here.” 

“She said he’s coming.” Michonne spoke up. 

Carol nodded in agreement. “I’m sure he’ll be here, and I’m sure we can work this all out.” 

“Alright, would anyone like to speak first?” Deanna opened up the floor.

“I will.” Michonne volunteered. “I want to talk about what it’s like to join this community like we did. After being out there and then not being how you were out there...it can drive you crazy. Rick just wants his family to live. He wants all of you to live. Who he is is who you’re gonna be. If you’re lucky.” 

Carol spoke next. 

“Rick Grimes saved my life over and over. There’s terrifying people out there and he rescued me from them. People like me, people like us, we need people like him.” She looked around at the faces lit by firelight. “I know what happened last night was scary, and I’m sure he’s sorry for that. But maybe we should listen to what he was saying.” 

Then Abraham took the floor. “I’ll put this simply. There is a vast ocean of shit that you people don’t know shit about. Rick knows every fine grain of said shit. And then some.” 

Maggie took her turn. 

“My father respected Rick Grimes. Rick is a father too. He’s a man with a good heart who feels the things he does, the things he has to do. And all of us, the ones who were together before this place, no matter when we found each other, we’re family now.” Maggie looked at you, and then back at Deanna. “And you won’t stop it. You can’t. And you don’t want to. This community, you people, that family, you want to be a part of it too.” 

“Before we hear from anyone else, I–” Deanna stepped forward. “I would like to share something in the spirit of transparency. Father Gabriel came to see me the day before yesterday. He said our new arrivals can’t be trusted. That they were dangerous. That they would put themselves before this community. Not one day later, Rick seemed to demonstrate all the things Father Gabriel said. I had hoped Gabriel would be here tonight.” 

“I don’t see him here, Deanna.” Jessie spoke up. “So you’re just saying what someone said. Did you tape him?” 

“He’s not here.” Maggie said. 

“Neither is Rick.” Deanna countered. 

“Excuse me,” Maggie murmured, pushing through the crowd and leaving through the courtyard’s back entrance–the one closest to the church. 

“I’d like to ask a question.” You stood up. 

“Please do.” Deanna nodded towards you. 

“Why have this meeting now? Why have  _ this  _ meeting about Rick,  _ right now _ ?” 

Deanna pursed her lips, “A member of our community endangered the safety of others. That cannot go unanswered.”

“Why haven’t we had a meeting about Pete?” 

The group fell silent. You could see Jessie stiffen out of the corner of your eye. 

“On my first day here, Pete attempted to assault me. A member of this community endangered my safety. I told you what happened, Deanna, and yet I don’t recall a meeting about what happened with Pete.” 

You could feel the stares at your back, you could hear the murmur passing through the group. Deanna shifted her weight from one foot to the other, keeping her expression neutral. 

“I think that is a matter better addressed at another time. This meeting, as I said, is about Rick.” 

“Then let’s talk about how he went there with the safety of this community in mind. He went there to make sure Pete was not harming anyone else–” 

“We’re not here to discuss what precipitated the event.” Deanna cut you off. “Thank you for your contribution, Y/N.” 

You set your jaw, biting back a reply. 

Tobin, one of the Alexandrians, stood up next. “I just want to keep my family safe, you know? I don’t really know what that means anymore but if we gotta get rid of…” 

He trailed off at the sound of footsteps passing into the courtyard. 

Rick, his face covered in blood and grime, walked into the firelight carrying a dead walker. He dumped the body in front of the fire, sending the Alexandrians stumbling backwards with a gasp. 

“There wasn’t a guard on the gate. It was open.” 

Spencer blanched, looking at his mother. “I asked Gabriel to close it.” 

“Go.” She ordered. 

He ran out of the courtyard. 

“I didn’t bring it in. It got inside  _ on its own. _ They always will. The dead  _ and _ the living, because  _ we’re  _ in here. And the ones out there, they’ll hunt us. They’ll find us. They’ll try to use us. They’ll try to kill us. But we’ll kill them. We’ll survive. I’ll show you how.” Rick looked around, cocking his head to the side. “I was thinking...I was thinking how many of you do I have to kill to save your lives. But I’m not gonna do that.  _ You’re _ gonna change. I’m not sorry for what I said last night. I’m sorry for not saying it sooner.” 

Deanna crossed her arms, stony-faced as she listened. 

“You’re not ready.” Rick continued. “But you have to be. Right now, you have to be. Luck runs out.” 

Heads turned as more footsteps approached. 

“You’re not one of us.” Pete stumbled into the light, Michonne’s katana clutched in one hand as he slurred his words. “You’re not one of us!”

“Pete, you don’t want to do this.” Reg moved closer to the doctor, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “Just stop.” 

“Get the hell away from me, Reg.” Pete warned.

“Reg,” Deanna called to him, “Reg–” 

“Stop, now, you need to stop.” 

“Just get away–!” Pete shoved Reg, accidentally slicing the sword across the older man’s throat. 

Deanna screamed. In a flash, Abraham tackled Pete to the ground as Rick drew his gun and aimed it at the doctor’s head while you moved toward Reg. You pressed your hands to his throat as hard as you could, sinking to the ground with his head in your lap. He choked and gurgled as you scrambled to stop the blood streaming over your hands. 

“No, no!” Deanna touched his face and his hair, her voice desperate and breaking. “No, my love, love, no, no no no no no.” 

“This is him!” Pete shouted, his face pressed to the ground by Abraham’s knee on the back of his head. “This is him!” 

Deanna sobbed as Reg’s body continued to convulse. You pressed as hard as you could, desperation and sorrow filling your chest. 

“Come on,” You whispered. “Please.” 

“It’s him!” Pete yelled. “This is him!” 

Reg gasped once more, his eyes blinking one, twice, and then losing focus. His body stilled, death overtaking him. 

Deanna turned her head, shaking with shock and loss. 

“Rick...do it.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned and sent a single bullet through Pete’s skull. Shocked screams from the Alexandrians behind you echoed the shot, followed by a heavy silence. 

“Rick?” 

The voice belonged to a stranger, a man standing in the doorway holding a quarterstaff and looking at Rick with confusion and something akin to disappointment. You didn’t look at him long, though, once you saw who stood on either side of him– Aaron and Daryl. 

Daryl met your gaze, his expression as stony as ever, but his eyes betraying something softer– sympathy and relief and something else you couldn’t place. 

Abraham moved closer to you, blocking your view. You realized your hands were still pressed to Reg’s throat. In a daze, you pulled them away, staring down at the blood covering your hands and your clothes as Abraham lifted the body and carried it away. 

You knelt there, just staring at your hands, feeling the crushing weight of defeat. Another person was gone. Another  _ good _ person taken away for no reason at all. 

Another person  _ you couldn’t save.  _

Gentle, callused hands grasped your arms, helping you to your feet. You looked up, Daryl’s face blurred by unshed tears. 

“Y’alright?” 

The warmth of his touch and the soft rasp of his voice sent you over the edge. 

The tears began to fall, your voice shaking with emotion. “No.” 

His expression softened as he raised his hands to your face, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. 

“C’mon,” Daryl grasped your elbow, leading you away from the pool of blood and out of the courtyard. 

By the time you returned to the house, you felt better. The chill of the air cleared your head and the steadiness of Daryl’s hand on your arm helped lessen the shock. The sorrow remained, but it no longer overwhelmed you. 

Michonne and Rick were already back, sitting with Carl in the living room as they explained to him what happened. 

Rick stood up when he saw you, his gaze tracking from your crimson stained hands to your face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but you spoke first. 

“It’s over now.” 

“It’s over.” Rick said. “Are you–”

Daryl let go of you, stepping forward. “I got ‘er.”

Rick inclined his head, stepping back. “Alright.” 

“Good night,” You said softly, starting towards the stairs. 

“Good night,” Michonne echoed softly, watching you with sympathetic eyes. 

Daryl didn’t follow right away. 

“Should’ve jus’ done it that night.” He rumbled, and you could hear the anger beneath his words. 

“I know.” came Rick’s reply. “What happened out there? How’d you find Morgan?” 

“Tell ya tomorrow.” 

“Alright.” 

Daryl caught up to you as you hit the stairs, following a few steps behind in case you faltered. You halted in the upstairs hallway, holding your hands close to your chest awkwardly. Anything you touched would be stained.

Daryl moved around you, his chest brushing against your arm. Daryl opened the bathroom door, padding inside after you. 

“Sit,” He rasped, guiding you towards the edge of the bathtub. 

You complied, too tired to argue. And, truth be told, you didn’t want him to leave you. Not right now. 

Methodically, Daryl turned the water on in the sink, grabbing a washcloth and soaking it with the warm water. He knelt down in front of you, taking your left hand and gently scrubbing it clean. Then he stood and wrung out the blood into the sink before soaking the cloth again and scrubbing your right hand until all the blood was gone. Before he could get up again, you caught his wrist, keeping him close. 

“Thank you,” You whispered. 

Daryl held your gaze, chewing on his bottom lip as he looked at you. You felt a twinge in your chest, a profound sense that  _ this  _ was right, that  _ this _ was where you belonged. 

In that moment, you knew Eric was right about you and Daryl.

You loved him. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my friends, we are approaching the anagnorisis of this story. It’s all going to be okay, but strap in my friends

Running a brush through your freshly washed hair, you walked back into your bedroom. Daryl still lay there, asleep. He’d turned onto his stomach when you slipped out of bed to take a shower, pressing his face into the pillow instead of the crook of your neck. You s miled softly at the sight, your chest warm with the knowledge he was comfortable and resting. 

You set the brush down on top of the dresser, opening a drawer to grab a long-sleeve shirt. As you pulled it on over your tank top, you felt the distinct prickling sense at the back of your neck of someone watching you. 

You turned, meeting his blue-eyed stare. Daryl looked away immediately, shifting to sit upright. 

“What time is’t?”

“A little past nine.” You said. “I only woke up about twenty minutes ago. I think we both needed some rest.” 

Daryl hummed, watching as you grabbed your boots and came to sit on the edge of the bed as you pulled them on. 

“Goin’ somewhere?” 

You straightened up, nodding gently. “I should get back to the infirmary. They’ll need me now, since…” 

You trailed off, trying not to remember the events of the night before. 

Daryl started slightly, moving to get out of bed. 

You watched curiously as he grabbed his pack from where he’d dropped it the night before and rooted through the contents. 

“Got ya somethin’.” He said, pulling an object out and extending it towards you. 

You accepted the book with a dark green cover that had certainly seen better days, but which boasted a very familiar and well-loved title. 

“ _ Little Women _ ,” A grin spread across your face as you looked back up at the archer. 

Daryl shoved his hands into his pockets. “Heard ya talkin’ ‘bout it with Beth when we got th’library cleared.” 

“And you remembered that?” 

Daryl shrugged, his cheeks reddening slightly as he chewed on his bottom lip. 

Your chest filled with warmth and affection and before you could think twice about it, you were pulling him into a hug. 

Nerves fluttered in your chest for a moment as Daryl stiffened at the contact. Maybe this was too bold, expressing your affection in the bright daylight rather than the liminal space of darkness which usually brought you together. 

But then he lifted his arms, tentatively wrapping one around your waist. You relaxed into him, dropping your head to rest on his shoulder while he brought his other hand up to cradle the back of your neck. 

“I’m glad you came back,” you murmured, tightening your hold for a moment before pulling back to look at him.

Daryl met your gaze, his expression soft. 

“Me too.”

~

When you returned to the infirmary, Tara was finally awake. She sat up in bed, talking with Rosita like she hadn’t just survived massive head trauma. They noticed you at the same time, smiling as they paused their conversation to look at you. 

“Hey, stranger.” Tara said, her voice still hoarse from being unconscious so long. 

“Hey,” You couldn’t help the giant smile spreading across your face, crossing over to wrap her in a gentle hug. “How long have you been up?” 

“Today? Less than an hour. I was up for a while last night.” 

You set your hands on your hips, looking between the two of them. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

Rosita gave you an incredulous look. “I heard what happened. Coming here was the last thing you needed.” 

“Besides, I’m fine.” Tara sat up a little straighter, as if that would convince you. 

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.” You said, walking away to grab a few tools. 

You checked her pupils for normal dilation; had her follow your finger with her eyes as you passed it across her face up and down and from side to side; and checked her coordination and reflexes. 

“How do you feel?” You asked, stepping back and studying her. 

“Like I got hit in the head.” Tara shrugged. “But otherwise okay.” 

“Okay,” You walked over to the medicine cabinet and grabbed a bottle of mild painkillers. 

Counting out a handful of pills, you dropped them into a little bag and put the bottle back into the cabinet. 

“These should be enough for the next few days. Take one every six hours to help with the headache.” You handed her the bag. “You’re officially discharged. Go home and take it easy today, okay? No guard duty or going outside.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Tara gave you a relaxed salute. 

“Good.” You smiled, detaching the IV. 

Her first steps out of bed were a little wobbly, but you and Rosita were there to steady her. 

“I’m okay. I got it.” She breathed, flashing a little smile as she took another step, and then another, each more stable than the last. 

“I’ll keep an eye on her.” Rosita nodded to you, following Tara to the door. 

You stood and watched them go, lingering nerves replaced by a rare and wonderful moment of happiness. 

The infirmary was quiet for a while, just you sitting with the medical books for a few hours until the door opened again in the early afternoon. 

A woman walked inside, about Maggie’s age with glasses and long dark blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. You knew you’d seen her around the community, but you couldn’t attach a name to the familiar face. 

“Hello,” You stood up and moved around the desk to greet her. “Can I help you?” 

“Oh, um, no.” She let out a nervous huff of laughter. “I came to ask you the same thing.” 

You cocked your head to the side as your brain put her words together. 

“Oh!” You finally said, “You’re the other doctor.” 

“Sorry,” She winced. “I should have started with that. Okay, sorry. I’m Denise.” 

Denise held out her hand and you accepted, shaking it briefly. 

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“Yeah,” Denise nodded, still clearly nervous. “You too.”

“Do you...do you want to sit?” You offered, gesturing to the desk. “We can talk a bit.” 

“Sure, thanks.” 

“So,” You clasped your hands, feeling oddly older than the woman sitting across from you. “Why haven’t we met before? I figured any doctors would be here at least sometimes…” 

“Pete didn’t want me around.” 

You let out a humorless laugh at that. “Yeah, me neither.” 

“Right,” Denise pushed her glasses further up her nose. “And I’m not...I have a medical degree but I’m not really...I’m a psychiatrist. I was going to be a  _ doctor _ doctor, a surgeon, but I started having panic attacks pretty early on in Med School so I took that as a sign pointing  _ away  _ from the ER.” 

Denise took a breath. “Sorry. That wasn’t exactly confidence inspiring, was it?” 

“It’s okay. I think we’re in the same boat.” You said. “Everything I know I’ve learned on the fly, really. My–we had a doctor in our group before, he taught me everything he could. Since then I’ve been working from textbooks and instinct.” 

“Oh.” Denise swallowed, clearly not comforted by your admission. 

“But,” You spoke quickly, “I think we can manage together. You’ve got the degree. I’ve got the experience. We can make this work.” 

“I hope so.” Denise said, pressing her lips together in a tight smile. “I really hope so.” 

Denise stayed for the rest of the day, listening carefully as you showed her around, pointing out all the medicine and supplies. You sat together to figure out a schedule–some hours on separate rotations, others overlapping, all with the promise that one of you would come help at any time if the other needed it. 

The longer she spent in the space with you, the more relaxed Denise became. By the time the sun began to dip down in the sky, the two of you were sitting comfortably at the desk, reading together. 

You’d just finished a section on infections when the door opened again. You looked up, a smile immediately spreading across your face as you met a gaze the color of the Georgia sky. 

“Daryl,” You shut the book, standing up and moving closer to him. 

He shifted awkwardly, fingering the strap of the crossbow across his back. He glanced at Denise, as if surprised to see someone else.

“Daryl, this is Denise. She’s another doctor.” You introduced. “Denise, this is Daryl.” 

“Hi.” Denise gave a little wave before pushing her glasses up her nose. 

You turned back to Daryl, looking him over for injuries. “You okay?”

“M’fine.” He rumbled. “Didn’ mean t’interrupt.” 

“You didn’t.” You assured him. “We’re just...studying, I guess. What’s up?”

“Jus’ thought’t was gettin’ late.” He chewed on the side of his thumb. “An’ Maggie wanted t’have family dinner or somethin’ tonight…” 

You looked back at Denise. She waved her hand, offering a smile. 

“Go,” She said, “I’m going to stay for a while longer.” 

“Thanks,” You smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You fell into step with Daryl, heading back home. He was quiet for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as the two of you walked. 

“Morgan’s gonna stay.” He said. “Talked about’t with Rick.” 

“Oh, good.” You nodded. “What happened with that, anyway? They knew each other.” 

“Met when Rick woke up. ‘Fore the farm an’everythin’. Found ‘im again when he an’ Michonne an’ Carl went back to King. Rick gave ‘im a map t’the prison.” 

“How’d he end up in Virginia?” 

He chuckled. “Got real lost.” 

“And really lucky, too.” You mused. 

Daryl glanced at you, confused. 

“He found you.” You said simply, nudging Daryl’s shoulder with your own. 

Daryl scoffed, shaking his head. But you didn’t miss the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. 

~

“Now what I’m proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them East. All of them. Right at us.” Rick said, looking around at each of the people gathered in Deanna’s living room. “It isn’t about if, it’s about when. It’s gonna happen. That’s why we have to do this soon.” 

The day before, Rick and Morgan had taken Pete’s body away from Alexandria to bury it. In the process, they found an abandoned quarry  _ filled _ with walkers. The noise had drawn in those wandering out of D.C. which only made more noise once they fell in, drawing even more walkers. One group or another trapped them inside with a couple of big storage trucks at the beginning, but that barrier wouldn’t last much longer. 

“This is...I don’t even have another word for it.” Carol said, “This is terrifying. All of it. But it doesn’t sound like there’s any other way.” 

“Maybe there is.” One of the Alexandrians, Carter, said. “I mean, couldn’t we just build up the weak spots. I could draw up plans. I helped build the walls with Reg. The construction crew, we can try to make it safe.” 

“Even if we could, the sound of those walkers is drawing more and more every day. Building up the exits won’t change that.” Rick said. 

“We’ll do what Rick says.” Deanna said, not turning around from where she stood looking out the window. “The plan he’s laid out.” 

“I told you all,” Rick continued. “We’re gonna have Daryl leading them away.” 

You glance at the archer, sitting on the sill of the other window, across from where you stood next to Michonne behind the sofa. Worry stirred in your stomach at the thought of him out in front of the herd, alone.

“Me too.” Sasha spoke up. “I’ll take a car, ride next to him. Can’t just be him. I’ll keep ‘em coming, Daryl keeps them from getting sloppy.” 

“I’ll go with her.” Abraham volunteered. “It’s a long way to white-knuckle it solo.” 

“We’ll have two teams.” Rick went on, “One on each side of the forest helping manage this thing. We’re gonna have a few people on watch from now on– Rosita, Spencer, and Holly. So they’re out. So who’s in?” 

“Me.” Michonne said. 

“I’ll go too.” You volunteered. 

“No, ya won’t.” Daryl interrupted, eyes flashing. 

You looked at him, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “What–” 

“Daryl’s right.” Rick interrupted. “You’re needed here in case anything happens.”

“I’m in.” Glenn spoke up. 

“I’d like to help as well.” Gabriel raised a hand. 

“No.” Rick said coldly. “Who else?” 

“There’s gotta be another play.” Carter spoke up again. “We can’t just control that many.” 

“I said it before, walkers herd up. They follow the path if something’s drawing them. That’s how we can get ‘em all at once.” 

“So, what? We’re just supposed to take your word for it? We’re all supposed to just fall in line behind you after…” 

Rick narrowed his eyes. “After what?”

“After you wave a gun around, screaming, pointing it at people. After you shoot a man in the face. After you–” 

“Enough!” Deanna shouted, turning around. 

Rick looked around again in the silence, challenging anyone else to speak out. 

“I’ll do it.” Heath said. 

“Me, too.” Another Alexandrian agreed. 

“Whatever you need, I’m in.” Tobin nodded. 

Deanna crossed her arms. “Now who else?” 

~

You stuck your shovel into the ground, driving it far enough that it would stand up on its own. Almost half of Alexandria came out, helping build a new section of wall to guide the herd along the road away from the community. You watched for a moment as people carried beams and sheets of metal while others helped dig up the earth to anchor everything. 

Wiping the sweat from your forehead with your sleeve, you could feel yourself smearing dirt on your face accidentally. Unable to contain it, you let out a laugh. 

“Somethin’ funny over there?” 

You squinted through the bright sun at the archer working next to you. He looked like you felt— sweaty and decorated with dirt. The sight only made you laugh harder. 

Daryl looked down at himself and then back to you, lips quirking in a confused smile. “ _ What? _ ” 

“Nothing,” You bit your lip, trying to calm the laughter. “Just...it feels like we’re home again.” 

“What’re ya talkin’ about?” 

“This. Us,” You gestured between the two of you. “Digging around in the dirt in the ungodly heat. It feels so much more like  _ us _ than being back there.” 

Daryl stared at you for a moment, his gaze softening into something you weren’t sure how to read. Then he shook his head with a smile, picking up a wheelbarrow full of dirt. 

“Jus’ don’t pass out this time, alright? Don’ wanna carry ya back home.” 

“You got it, Dixon.” 

He chuckled, walking the barrow over towards Rick. You grabbed your shovel again and kept working, dumping dirt back into the wheelbarrow when Daryl came back, picking up his own shovel to help you. 

Suddenly, shouts from the other side of the site drew your attention. A couple of walkers approached from the woods, snarling at Carter and the other Alexandrians helping him carry a wooden beam across the field. 

You and Daryl dropped your shovels and ran closer, you drawing your knife while he raised his crossbow. But Rick held out an arm, signalling for both of you to stop. Daryl lowered the bow hesitantly, but you kept your grip on your knife. 

“Use your shovels. The guns will draw more.” Rick called to them. 

“Help us!” Carter pleaded. 

“You can do this. You need to. All of you.” Rick said, holding his ground. 

The walkers lunged, jaws snapping at the scared townspeople. One of them, a kid not much older than Carl, stumbled and fell backwards. You moved to help, but a hand caught your arm, pulling you back. 

“Don’” Daryl rasped in your ear. “Rick’s right. They gotta do this.” 

You looked at him in shock, irritation flaring in your stomach at his words. How could he just leave them on their own? 

“They don’t have to do it alone.” You said, yanking your arm free and running towards the walkers. 

Morgan ran too, followed immediately by the others. You grabbed one walker by the shoulder, shoving it into a tree as you plunged your knife into its skull. Behind you, you heard the whistle of a crossbow bolt. As you turned you saw the walker fall, just inches away from you. 

In a matter of seconds, the walkers were on the ground, the Alexandrians looking on in shock and horror. You sheathed your knife, walking back towards Daryl. 

He reached out to touch your shoulder, his expression drawn with worry. “Y’alright?” 

“I’m fine.” You shrugged his hand away, stalking past him. 

You grabbed your shovel and started digging again, feeling the irritation simmer within you. You couldn’t believe that  _ Daryl _ of all people would do that. Out of everyone you knew,  _ he  _ was the one you knew would help those who needed it. Out of everything you loved about him,  _ that _ was one of the biggest. He was a good man with a good heart who saw the good in others. He didn’t leave people to fend for themselves just to prove a point. 

You saw Daryl return out of the corner of your eye. You knew he was watching you, waiting for you to say something. 

You ignored him, jabbing your shovel into the ground and hurling the dirt into the wheelbarrow before repeating the process over again. After a few minutes, he got back to work, glancing at you every once in a while as you took your anger out on the ground. 

Neither of you said a word to each other until well after you’d returned to Alexandria. When you got back, you’d hopped right off of Daryl’s bike and headed straight for the shower. At dinner, you sat next to Tara and pretended not to notice the blue eyes watching you from across the table. 

Things finally came to a head as you were getting ready for bed. Daryl sat up against the headboard, following you with his gaze as you kicked off your boots, tossing them into the corner with a little more force than necessary. 

“Ya pissed at me or somethin’?”

“Yeah,” You whirled around to glare at him, your words coming out cold. “‘Or something.’”

His eyebrows drew together as Daryl leaned forward. “The hell’s that supposed t’mean?” 

“It means I’m pissed at you!” You threw your hands up in exasperation. 

“What for?” 

“‘ _ What for? _ ’” You repeated, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you.” 

That made him angry. Daryl swung his legs off the bed, standing up as he glared at you. 

“Would’ya just–” He clenched his fists and then released them agitatedly. “Just fuckin’ say what ya mean!” 

“You left them on their own! You were going to let those people fight the walkers by themselves!” 

“They need t’learn how t’handle that kinda stuff, Y/N! If ya don’, ya die.” Daryl stepped closer. 

“But we’re supposed to  _ help  _ them learn. Not shove them out into the open before they’re ready.” You argued. 

“We don’ have time t’get ‘em ready, Y/N. Rick was right, they gotta do it now.” 

“But that’s just it!” You were shouting now. “I expect that kind of shit from  _ Rick _ , I don’t expect it from you.” 

Daryl closed the distance between you, getting in your face. “Th’hell d’ya mean?” 

“You’re better than that, Daryl! I  _ know _ you are.” 

The anger in his expression faltered slightly, something more vulnerable flashing behind his eyes for an instant. And then he set his jaw, his old mask of stoic indifference falling across his face. His next words hit you like a crossbow bolt through the heart, sharp and cold. 

“Ya don’ know anythin’ ‘bout me.” 

Daryl shoved past you, slamming the door shut behind him as he left. You felt the crack reverberate through your body, leaving a heavy, horrible feeling deep in your bones. 

~

You and Daryl didn’t speak at all the next morning. Hell, you barely even saw him. 

He was in the kitchen when you passed through on your way to go for a run. When you made eye contact, he just turned around and walked out of the room. 

The anger came back then, replacing any impulse you’d had to try and talk to him again, any yearning you’d felt for his presence tossing and turning with nightmares the night before. 

If he wanted to resolve this, he could come to you.  _ He _ was the one who’d done something wrong.  _ He  _ was the one who’d walked out last night.  _ He  _ could apologize first. Not you. 

But when you came back, the group was already gone, heading out for the day’s “rehearsal.” They’d spend today walking through each step of the plan, finishing up the last of the preparations before doing it all for real tomorrow. 

Your run didn’t help much. You arrived at your infirmary shift feeling irritable, dropping down at the desk and glaring at the textbook in front of you. Denise came in an hour or two later, took one look at your body language and moved to sit on the exam table, giving you your space. 

“It hams my biscuits is all,” Eugene’s voice drew you away from the page you’d been staring at for the better part of the twenty minutes as he walked in with Tara. “And going by cubic feet, the biggest building in the expansion and we’re gonna waste it on a church. Take out the benches that could be a lab, a machine shop, at the very least a sweet-ass game room. Walled-in real estate is at a premium here. Thumper’s shouldn’t just get dibs.” 

“Well, maybe we share the church, you know?” Tara said over her shoulder, walking towards you. “Do all that stuff on different days. Hams my biscuits?”

“Hams my biscuits.” Denise’s voice drew their attention from the exam table. “That’s all I heard. I mean I have no idea what you said after that.” 

Eugene started again. “Going by cubic feet–”

“She was joking.” You interrupted flatly, looking at Tara. “What’s up? You okay?” 

“Eugene and I were working on a platform for another guard tower. I got a little dizzy. Still have headaches.” 

Denise stood up and gestured to the table. “Sit down, I’ll take a look.” 

You caught her eye, inclining your head in question. “You got this?” 

“You’re my first patient,” Denise smiled at Tara nervously. “But I think with a headache I won’t be able to kill you.” 

“Unless you miss, like a hematoma or something.” Eugene added.

You nudged him with your elbow, shushing him. You held out a hand, gesturing for Denise to proceed. Crossing your arms over your chest, you observed as Denise performed each of the tests you’d done on Tara when she’d first woken up, noting her resistance to looking far in her periphery. 

“Okay,” Denise stepped back, “This looks pretty normal for recovering head trauma.” 

Denise glanced at you and you nodded your agreement before she continued, walking over to the medicine cabinet for the bottle of aspirin. 

“Two of these should help.” She shook two tablets out into Tara’s outstretched hand. 

“You did great.” Tara smiled encouragingly. 

Denise pushed her glasses up, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “Thanks.” 

“Well, we should get back to it.” Tara clapped her hands together, getting up from the table. “See you later.” 

Tara had just extended her hand for a fist bump when a noise tore through the air–loud and unending, like a siren or a horn. 

“What–” Denise barely started her question when you heard gunshots ring out, echoing down the street. 

You threw open a drawer and grabbed a scalpel, handing it to Tara before drawing your knife and moving towards the door. Glancing out at the street, you saw figures clad in dark clothing running through the streets into the houses. Screams pierced the air as the strangers grabbed Alexandrians and stabbed them. 

A group of the intruders were coming straight for the infirmary. 

Silently, you gestured for the others to get back as you flattened yourself against the wall next to the door. As the first intruder passed the threshold, you sprang into action, stabbing him in the neck and shoving him backwards into the man behind him. With the second one occupied by the bleeding body falling on top of him, you moved quickly, driving your knife straight through his eye. 

Behind them, you could see Aaron Eric, and Rosita carrying Holly’s bleeding body towards you. 

“Eugene, Tara!” You shouted, “Help me get the bodies out of the way.”

The three of you rolled them away from the steps, the scarred ‘w’ cut into each of their foreheads barely registering before you were running back inside.

“Hurry, she’s lost a lot of blood!” Rosita said. 

Denise rolled the gurney over while you rushed to the sink, scrubbing off as much blood as you could before grabbing an IV bag. 

“How many people are out there?” Tara wondered. 

“I don’t know,” Aaron said. “A lot.” 

You grabbed Holly’s arm, inserting the IV and securing it with a piece of tape. Eric stood next to you, applying pressure to the knife wound in her stomach. 

“I have to help.” Aaron said, looking at his husband. “I have to try.” 

“I know.” Eric nodded. 

“I’m going to have to go too, Y/N.” Rosita said. 

“I know,” You said without looking up from where you were attaching Holly to the vitals monitor. 

“Me too.” Tara echoed. 

“What? No!” Denise argued. “You got dizzy swinging a hammer and somebody has to stay and guard this place.” 

“You can handle it.” Tara said. 

“I can’t!” 

You looked up then, grabbing Denise’s shoulder and making her look at you. “Yes, we can. And Tara, you’re staying.” 

“I also believe my services would be best rendered right very here.” Eugene said, frozen in place. 

“What?” Aaron gaped at him. 

“I believe my services–” 

“Shut up! You’re safe here.” Rosita shoved Aaron towards the door, running back out into the streets. 

“I need you to help me hold her still.” You ordered, prepping the sutures. 

“Okay,” Denise took a few deep breaths, “Okay okay okay.” 

Tara put her hand on Holly’s shoulder, pressing her down onto the cart. Holly’s head lolled to the side, her skin pale and dewey. The monitor began to beep faster and louder. 

“What’s happening with her?” Tara asked. 

“She’s bleeding internally, probably severed her femoral artery.” Denise said, her hands falling away from Holly’s body. “She’s dying.” 

“Okay,” You breath, racking your brain. “How do I fix an artery?” 

“You’d need a surgeon and even they might not be able to do it.” 

“I have to try.” You said, your voice getting more desperate. “Tell me what to do. You were going to be a surgeon–” 

“But I’m not.” 

“She was protecting this place. She was guarding us, that’s why we’re here, for each other.” Tara said. “You’re afraid? I don’t care, help her. Help her!” 

“You don’t want to be a coward.” Eugene added. “I know.” 

“Denise…” You stared at her, “Please.” 

Denise chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment before setting her jaw. “I need an abdominal binder. We’re going to pull the knife.” 

“Okay,” You let out a breath. “Tara, third drawer on the right.” 

After you pulled the knife, things got worse. You couldn’t get the bleeding to stop and then Holly flatlined. Denise started compressions, pushing over and over and over again but the flat tone of the monitor continued, signalling your failure. You stepped back, hands shaking. Eric wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a hug. 

Denise stopped trying, yanking the power chord from the monitor to stop the noise. 

“Denise, you tried.” Tara said. “You are a doctor.” 

“Just...go see if it’s over out there.” Denise said. 

“See if anyone else is injured. Bring them here if you can, if you can’t, come get me.” You said. 

“But–” 

“Just go.” Denise’s breathing was labored and you could tell she was on verge of panic. 

You nodded at the others, waiting until they’d gone before moving to stand in front of her. 

“Breathe.” You took an exaggerated breath, in and then out. In and then out. 

Denise mirrored you until the panic faded from her eyes. You reached out and patted her arm, managing a smile. You turned back towards the table, pulling out your knife. 

“No,” Denise put her hand on your arm, stopping you. “I need to do it.” 

“Okay.” You nodded, handing her the blade. “Make sure you get the brain.” 

You crossed your arms, hugging them tight to your chest as Denise shoved it through Holly’s temple. 

Morgan and Aaron came by soon after, dragging the bodies of the wolves, as Morgan called them, away. Holly was taken somewhere else, to be buried with the other slain Alexandrians. You and Denise had barely finished scrubbing Holly’s blood from your hands when Heath showed up, helping an injured Scott limp through the door. 

“You’re back.” You said, your mind immediately jumping to Daryl. “Are the others–” 

“Go,” Denise said, as if she could read your mind. “I can handle this, at least.” 

“Are you sure?” 

She nodded, sorrow and resolve settled in her expression. “Go.” 

You ran, finding Michonne talking to Maggie by the front gate. You didn’t see anyone else with them, and your heart sank. 

“What happened?” 

“We had to do it today. The trucks weren’t going to hold. But half the herd broke off when they heard the horn.” Michonne explained. “Daryl and the others are still leading the front of the herd away. Rick went to draw the others off. I got separated from Glenn and Nicholas, but the others...they didn’t make it.” 

“Oh my God.” 

Fear settled in your stomach, but before you could properly marshal your thoughts, a voice rang out from beyond the walls. 

“Open the gate! Open the gate now!” You ran with the other two, dragging open the fence and then the gate, revealing Rick running just a few feet ahead of the herd. 

He shoved one out of his way, falling to the ground in the process. You unsheathed your knife, ready to go out after him when he got back to his feet and kept running, making it inside. You helped Michonne close the gate just before the herd hits, latching it shut. 

You stumbled backwards, hearing their bodies hit the metal sheets, snarling as they slammed against the walls, trying to reach you. 

A sick feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. You were trapped. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter in a mad three hour burst back in July. Just sat down and banged it out faster than anything I’ve ever written in my life. This still isn’t my most favorite chapter in this series, but damn if this one didn’t feel good to write. :)

In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth. 

You tried to focus on your breath, controlling the quick sips of air as you ran through the streets of Alexandria. You tried to clear your head of thoughts and worries, pushing your legs faster and further. 

But with every step, every beat of your heart, you could only think of one thing–  _ Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl Daryl.  _

Stuck inside the walls, with the walkers pushing in on all sides, there was nothing for you to do. You couldn’t go out and look for him, you couldn’t contact him over the radio, you couldn’t do anything but wait and trust that he was okay. 

But that was getting harder with every moment that passed. 

They should’ve been back by now–Daryl and Sasha and Abraham and Glenn and Nicholas. They should’ve come back or checked in over the radio or sent some kind of signal. 

You waited up all night, in the infirmary with Scott and the others injured from the wolf attack. You changed bandages and checked vitals and read an entire textbook, listening for the thundering rumble of a motorcycle. 

It never came. 

At dawn, Denise came back and made you go home to try and rest. She, at least, seemed to be doing better. The panic was gone from her eyes and her posture was more relaxed–more confident. 

You, on the other hand, felt like you were unraveling at the seams. You’d tried to sleep, tossing and turning for a few hours in the morning before giving up and pulling on your sneakers in the hope that exercise might help clear your head. 

Something had gone wrong out there. It had to, or they would be back by now.  _ He _ would be back by now. 

Something had gone wrong, and though you knew he was strong and kind and smart enough to handle it, you wished you could be there. You wished you could be there to help him and protect him and fight for him. 

You wished you could tell him you loved him. 

The fight had been stupid. So utterly, completely stupid and now it might be the last thing he’d remember about you. 

And that hurt. 

You ran faster, starting your third lap around the neighborhood. You passed Rosita, teaching a group of Alexandrians the proper technique for using a machete. Maggie stood up on a guard platform, keeping watch. You rounded the curve, approaching the section of wall the wolves’ truck had hit, where Rick and Tobin were working on a reinforcement. Rick stood with Deanna now, talking.

As you ran, you caught sight of something beyond the walls–a bunch of green balloons floating through the air. You slowed to a stop, hope flaring in your chest at the sight. Rick and Deanna looked up as well, tracking the balloons’ progress. 

“That’s Glenn!” Maggie ran up behind you, “That’s Glenn.” 

You turned to her, a smile just starting to spread across your face when you heard the sound of wood splintering. All heads turned to see the old clock tower tilting towards the wall. 

Rick held out an arm, running backwards towards you. You followed suit, backpedaling as fast as you could, watching as the tower came crashing to the ground–taking the wall with it. 

You froze for just a moment in shock as dust rained down in a cloud, your heart pounding against your chest. 

But then the walkers were streaming in, snarling hungrily. Rick lifted his gun, shooting the few closest to him. 

“Everyone get back!” He shouted, firing another shot. 

You drew your knife, but there were too many to even think about fighting. Maggie took off, running back towards the guard tower. You were about to follow, wanting to keep her safe, when the sound of Rick’s gun drew your attention. 

“Rick!” Deanna drew her own gun, running after him. 

You followed her, grabbing a walker as it lunged towards her back, sinking your knife into its head. 

“You need to get back!” Rick shouted, shooting two more of them. 

You faced off against another, holding it back with your forearm as its jaws snapped in your face. 

“ _ We  _ need to get back!” Deanna yelled back, shooting a walker in the shoulder. “Get back!” 

She pushed at its chest, struggling against its bigger frame until finally shooting up through its chin. The momentum forced her backwards, falling onto a pile of wooden beams. An exposed saw blade sliced her thigh, and she cried out in pain. 

“Deanna, are you alright?” Rick shot another walker, bending to help Deanna up as you finally gained enough leverage against your walker, taking it down. 

“We need to go,  _ now _ .” You said, supporting Deanna on one side while Rick took the other. 

“Oh, God.” Deanna cried as the three of you ran, “Oh my God.” 

“Rick!” 

Michonne, Carl, Ron, and Gabriel all ran towards you, cutting across the grass before joining you as you ran down the street. 

“Good, you’re safe.” Rick grunted, “Let’s go.” 

Michonne beheaded one walker, and Carl shot another, forming a small protective formation around Deanna. But then a whole wall of them was shuffling closer, flanking you. Your heart raced, your brain spinning to come up with any way out of this, any way to take them down when more shots rang out. 

“Come on!” Jessie stood on her front lawn, clearing you a small path. “I have Judith!” 

Everyone ran, you and Rick practically carrying Deanna at that point, rushing inside and slamming the door shut behind you. 

“I need somewhere to treat her.” You said. “We need to lay her down right away.” 

“Upstairs.” Jessie said. 

Rick fully picked Deanna up, carrying her bridal style up to the third floor. “Where?” 

“This one on the right.” 

Michonne opened the door for you and you swiped everything off the sofa to make space for Deanna. Rick lay Deanna down on the sofa. You knelt in front of her, shouting back at Jessie over your shoulder. 

“I need a clean cloth and a bowl of water. If you have a first aid kit I need that as well.” 

Jessie nodded, “Ron, go fill a bowl and grab a washcloth from the closet.” 

“But–” 

“Now.” 

The teenager scowled but did as he was told, leaving to get the supplies. You heard Judith starting to cry, seeing Carl carrying her away from all the noise and chaos. Rick stood and followed them. Michonne knelt beside you, looking between you and Deanna. 

“What can I do?” 

“I need to look at the wound. Can we get the pant leg off?” 

Michonne didn’t need to be told twice, ripping the fabric off just above the gash on Deanna’s thigh. You used the torn garment as a tourniquet, tying it tightly around her leg to help with the bleeding. Jessie returned then and passed you a sizable first aid kit. You opened it up, sorting through alcohol swabs and bandages, even finding thread for surgical stitches. 

You glanced at her, heart twisting for a moment as you realized why she had such good medical supplies. 

But you didn’t have time to dwell on it. You accepted the bowl and cloth from Ron, soaking the towel and beginning to clean Deanna’s wound. 

“Keep pressure on it with this.” You said, nodding to the cloth. 

Michonne took over while you prepared the needle to stitch up the gash. 

“Deanna, this is going to hurt, but I need you to stay still for me, okay?” You said, keeping your voice calm and measured, like Hershel would. 

Deanna nodded, gripping the edge of the couch tightly. “I gave birth to two giants. I can handle a little pain.” 

“That’s the attitude.” You smiled briefly, turning to Michonne. “Remove the cloth and hold her leg down.” 

Deanna tensed as you pierced her skin, but didn’t cry out or jerk at the pain. 

“Good,” You said, pulling the stitch through, “Don’t forget to breathe.” 

Deanna let out a slow hiss of breath as you worked on the second stitch. 

“You’re doing great.” You said, starting the third. “Over halfway done now, Deanna.” 

Her knuckles were white against the couch as she continued to force her breath out in slow hisses. 

“Okay,” You cut the thread. “Hand me a bandage and some tape?” 

Michonne passed you what you needed, watching as you covered the wound carefully. 

“Can you turn onto your side? I want to look at the other injuries.” You asked and Deanna nodded, slowly shifting. 

“How is she?” Rick stood in the doorway behind you, looking on. 

“As far as I can tell, Y/N is doing her job but it hurts like a son of a bitch.” Deanna said. 

“She just finished with the leg.” Michonne said. “That seems to be the worst of–”

You lifted Deanna’s shirt to look at the other source of blood. Your heart sank, taking in the distinct mark of a walker bite. 

Deanna lifted her head at the sudden silence, peering down at it. She let out a shaky breath, meeting Rick’s resigned gaze before staring up at the ceiling. 

“Well…” Deanna’s voice shook. “Shit.”

~

The fever had already set in. You were sitting with Deanna, keeping a cool cloth pressed to her forehead, laughing at her slightly delirious jokes, when you heard shouting from downstairs. 

Your head turned to the door, your hand immediately touching the knife at your hip. 

“Go,” Deanna patted your hand. “I’m fine.” 

You ran down the stairs, finding Rick and Jessie in the hallway, banging on the garage door. Rick nudged Jessie backwards, slamming his axe into the door handle over and over until it finally gave way. Ron and Carl ran inside, walkers hot on their heels. 

You slammed your shoulder against the door, trying to keep them out. 

“Here, move!” Rick and Gabriel carried the couch in from the living room, bracing it against the door. 

“We need more and we need to be quiet.” Rick ordered. 

“I’ll see what I can find.” Michonne disappeared into the next room. 

You stood next to Gabriel, pushing the couch into the door as the walkers shoved back from the other side. 

“Hey, what happened in there?” Rick turned to Carl. 

“We were looking for tools,” Carl said, “Knocked over a shelf.” 

You’d known the kid since he was ten years old. You knew when he was lying. 

“We heard yelling.” Jessie said. 

“Yeah, Ron saw them break through the gates. We had to move.” Carl said. 

“Hey,” Jessie grabbed her son’s shoulder. “It sounded like you were fighting.” 

“Yeah fighting them.” Ron shrugged her off, walking upstairs. 

“Carl? It’s okay?” 

“It’s okay.” Carl nodded to his father before following Ron. 

You and Rick pushed on the couch as Michonne carried over the hall table, helping Jessie prop it up next to the sofa, bracing the door shut. 

Upstairs, you could hear Judith crying again.

“I’ll get her,” Rick said, heading back up. 

You leaned against the wall for a moment, catching your breath. 

“What happened?” Michonne asked. 

“If I had to guess, teenage boy stupidness.” You said. “I’m gonna go talk to Carl.” 

You found him on the second floor, looking out the window at the streets now filled with walkers. 

“Hey,” You nudged his shoulder, coming to stand next to him. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” He nodded. 

You crossed your arms, keeping your gaze out the window. “Want to tell me what actually happened down there?” 

Carl glanced at you and then back outside. “I’ve got it under control.” 

“Yeah?” You looked at him then, eyebrows raised. “That didn’t look like control to me. You can ask for help if you need it, you know.” 

“I’m gonna take care of it.” He said, turning and walking away from you.

For a second, he was the spitting image of his father, telling you the same thing weeks ago in the infirmary. The image sent a wave of unease through your stomach. 

“Hey,” Rick appeared in the doorway, “I need your help.” 

You crossed the room, walking with him to the stairs and back up to the third floor. Rick bent his head, keeping his voice low. 

“Deanna can’t be alone anymore. We’re...we’re getting close.” 

“I’ll stay with her.” 

“Thank you,” Rick put a hand on your shoulder. “You know…”

He paused for a second, opening his mouth as if to say something else, before thinking better of it. 

“What?” 

“Nothing…” Rick shook his head, “Just– you’ve come a long way since the farm.” 

Images flashed in your mind– sunny fields, Daryl’s scars, Beth laughing, the barn in flames. 

“Yeah…” You agreed. “We all have.” 

Rick had moved Deanna to the bed down the hall. She smiled weakly as you came in, her skin pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

“Y/N, I’m glad it’s you.” She shifted, trying to sit up. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

You moved to her side, propping her up with a few pillows behind her back. “How’s that?” 

“Better, thank you.” She took your hand, “I need to tell you I’m sorry.” 

You furrowed your brow, confused. 

“You were right about Pete. I knew it. Deep down, I knew he was dangerous but I let my pride get in the way.” Deanna sighed. “And it came back to bite me in the ass. I’m sorry for dismissing you the way I did.”

You squeezed her hand, your chest tightening. 

“You’re a remarkable young woman, Y/N. I hope you know that.” 

You shook your head. “I’m not, I’m just–” 

“No, you are. You have an incredible strength and kindness that I should have respected instead of pushing you aside. I am truly sorry for that.” 

“I forgive you.” You said sincerely, “You were trying to do what you thought was right. I...I’m coming to realize life is too short not to forgive people for that.” 

Deanna smiled. “You’ll see him again.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at her. 

“You’re survivors, both you and Daryl. If you’re who I think you are, you won’t let anything stop you from finding each other again. You didn’t the first time around.” 

You blinked rapidly, trying to fight off the lump growing in your throat. 

“I have one small piece of advice for you, though.” Deanna patted your hand. “There’s never as much time as you think. Don’t wait to say how you feel.” 

~

The walkers broke through the front door an hour later. Everyone ran upstairs and Rick and Michonne barely blocked the steps with the sofa before the herd was inside, crowding the first floor. Their noise would only draw more of them in, leaving you all with only one option for survival– walking right out into the middle of it. 

You sat with Deanna until the last possible moment, waiting until Michonne came in to hand you your own bedsheet. 

“Thank you.” You said, managing a sad smile. 

“Thank  _ you _ .” Deanna returned. 

You left before you could start to cry, pulling the sheet over your head and walking into the next room. You steeled yourself, reaching down to the walkers Rick and Michonne had cut open and smearing on as much blood and guts as you could. 

The group gathered in the upstairs hallway. You looked over the railing, trying to keep the fear at bay as you saw the sea of walkers beneath. 

“We have to go.” Michonne whispered. 

“We’re ready.” Jessie set her hands on Sam’s shoulders, as if she could transfer her courage to him through touch. “Ron?” 

“Yeah.” Ron didn’t look at her. 

“I’ll get Judith,” Rick said. 

“Rick,” Gabriel caught his arm. “I’m not going to give up out there. I will not turn back, no matter what happens.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Rick nodded. 

“Do you–” Gabriel faltered, gesturing to where you kept your knife at your hip. “Would you be willing to switch? I’d feel better with a smaller blade.” 

You looked at him, seeing the same desire to be brave, to survive, mirrored in his face. 

“Yeah, sure.” You said, passing him your knife in exchange for the machete. 

Rick returned with Judith in his arms, and you helped lift Carl’s sheet as Rick passed her to his son, concealing her beneath the covering. You formed a line with Rick at the front as you ventured down the stairs. Rick slowly moved the sofa aside, stepping out into the herd. They snarled and snuffled, but paid you no mind. 

On the porch, you paused, looking out at the infested street. Slowly, you took each other’s hands, forming a chain. 

And then you began to walk. 

Your goal was the armory. Get there, grab guns and flares and try to draw them away. But the closer you got, the deeper you waded into the herd, the more your heart began to sink. 

There were just  _ too many _ of them. Even if you got to the armory. Even if you could get out and cause a distraction, it wouldn’t be enough. 

Rick knew it too, bringing your little group to a stop in a small clearing by the pond. You and Michonne stood with your backs to the others, listening, but keeping a watchful gaze on the walkers still surrounding you. 

“Alright,” Rick said, “New plan. A few flares from a couple of guns isn’t going to be enough. Too many walkers, too spread out. We’re not going to the armory. We need our vehicles down at the quarry. We need to round them up and lead them away. We leave. We come back.” 

“Okay.” Jessie said. “But Judith...to the quarry and back...I–” 

“I’ll take her.” Gabriel said. “Keep her safe in my church until you all lead the walkers away.” 

Michonne looked back then, her eyes flashing. “Can you do this?” 

“I’m supposed to. I have to.” Gabriel looked back at Rick. “I will.” 

“Alright.” Rick nodded to Carl. 

Judith whimpered as Carl passed her out from under his sheet into Gabriel’s arms. The preacher held her close, hushing her gently. 

“Take Sam too.” Jessie said suddenly.

“No.” Sam protested. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Sam–”

“Mom, I’m not.” He insisted. “I can keep going. Please.” 

You shifted slightly from foot to foot, unease swirling in your stomach. You’d already stayed too long. The sun was going down now. You needed to keep moving.

“Please.” Sam repeated. 

Jessie relented. “Okay.”

“I will keep her safe.” Gabriel promised, holding Rick’s gaze. 

“Thank you,” the former sheriff whispered. 

You watched, your chest aching with worry as Gabriel slowly walked away, venturing into the herd alone. 

“He’s going to make it, okay?” Jessie said, catching Rick’s gaze. “She’s going to be okay.” 

Rick blinked rapidly, refocusing. He held out his hand, leading Sam forward. Jessie took his hand, grabbing Carl’s hand with the other. Ron followed, with you behind him and Michonne at the rear. 

You kept walking, linked together, until the sun dipped below the horizon. In the darkness, without the oppressive heat of the day, the walkers moved faster, staggering around you like planets in orbit. 

In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth. You focused on your breath, keeping yourself and your pace steady. 

But then Ron stopped in front of you and narrowly avoided running into him. Just a few feet away, Sam was frozen, his hand dropped from Rick’s grasp as he stared out at the passing walkers. 

“Sam?” His mother whispered, “Sam, come on.” 

“Come on, Sam.” Rick echoed, holding out his hand. 

“Sam,” Ron whispered. “You can do this, just look at Mom.”

The boy didn’t respond. He didn’t even move. 

“Sam, honey, I need you to come with me.” Jessie pleaded. 

Sam shook his head, lip quivering as he began to cry. “I want to. But I…” 

“You need to be strong–” 

The walkers grabbed him before you could react, teeth biting into his forehead and neck. Sam screamed for his mother, the sound shrill and heart-wrenching. You pressed your lips together, stomach twisting. 

Jessie screamed, watching her son be torn apart. 

“Jessie,” Carl pleaded, tugging on her hand. “Jessie come with us, we have to go.” 

You could see the walkers turning your way, attracted by the smell of freshly shed blood and the ear-splitting screams. 

“Come on, please.” You whispered, feeling the desperation crawling up your throat. 

And then the walkers took her too, three of them, all clawing and biting and tearing at her. 

“No,” Rick sobbed, stumbling backwards, “No.” 

“Dad,” Carl cried, his wrist locked in Jessie’s death grip. 

Rick snapped out of it, drawing his axe and bringing it down, once, twice, three times, until her hand fell. Carl moved towards his father. Ron let go of your hand, still standing in place

“Come on,” You said, starting to move around him, trying to get him to go with you. “We have to–” 

You heard the hammer of the gun click. 

“You,” Ron aimed the pistol at Rick. “You.” 

Michonne moved in an instant, her katana ripping through his neck. The gun fired off to the side, missing Rick entirely. Michonne pulled the sword free and Ron fell. You watched as the walkers swarmed his body, leaving nothing left to turn. 

“Dad?” You looked up at Carl, panic rushing through your veins as you saw the blood dripping down his face. 

“Carl...no.” Rick sobbed as his son crumpled to the ground. 

You pressed your hand to your mouth, taking in the bloody wound where Carl’s right eye should have been. The gunshot...the bullet…you had to–

“Infirmary. Now.” You shouted, lifting your machete. “I can–I can try to save him.” 

Rick lifted his son from the ground and began to run. You and Michonne stayed a step ahead the whole way, taking out any walker in your path. 

Denise was there when you arrived, opening the door to let Rick in. You were vaguely aware of others standing nearby, but your focus remained on Carl and Carl alone. 

“This was a gunshot?” Denise asked as Rick laid his son down on the gurney. 

“Handgun, close range.” You said, accepting an IV from someone off to your left. 

“Please save him,” Rick sobbed, his breath shaking with emotion. “Please…” 

The light turned on as you attached the IV. 

“That’s going to draw them here.” You thought that was Spencer talking. 

“We need light.” Denise said, coming back to your side. 

You kept pressure on the wound with a towel while Denise prepared to sew up the lacerations. She gave instructions as needed, her voice calm and authoritative, so far from the nervous woman she’d been two days earlier. 

Rick opened the door, axe in hand, and walked out. 

“Rick!” Michonne shouted after him. “Rick, what are you doing?” 

You couldn’t spare a glance, focusing on holding pressure as Denise started to close Carl’s wound. 

“Rick’s out there, I have to go. He needs my help.” Michonne breathed, stopping just long enough to kiss Carl on the forehead before she was out the door too, katana drawn. 

“He’s taking them all on, we have to help him.” That was Aaron. 

“What?” Spencer said. 

Denise pulled another stitch through. 

“We have to.” Heath agreed. “This is it.” 

“Denise, I have to–” You said, your body thrumming with energy and emotion. 

“One more.” She said. “One more.” 

The others grabbed their weapons and ran out. You bit your lip, forcing yourself to keep still, to focus on saving Carl before you could help save everyone else. 

“Okay, got it.” Denise looked up at you, completely confident. “I got this. Go.” 

“Thank you.” You breathed, grabbing the machete and following your family into the fray. 

You slipped through breaks in the wall of walkers until you caught up with them, the six of you forming a small circle against the herd. 

“Shove them away, drive them down!” Rick shouted. 

You moved fast, keeping on the balls of your feet as you cut off heads and split skulls in a daze, driven by your need to protect and survive. 

Others were joining now, Eric and Olivia and then Morgan and Carol and Rosita and even Eugene. The whole town took to the streets, all running out of the apartments and houses with kitchen knives and baseball bats, making their way towards you. Together, you moved forward, pushing steadily through the herd.

You stabbed and slashed in a macabre rhythm, whirling and striking and falling into line with Tara on your left and Rosita on your right, backing towards the Northeast wall. 

“Hold your ground!” You heard Rick shout. 

You tightened your grip, ready to keep fighting until the end came, one way or another. 

And then the pond exploded. 

Flames erupted out of the water, filling the surface with bright hot light. You all stumbled back for a moment, watching the display. The walkers did too, turning and shuffling towards the fire. 

You didn’t know why or how, but you knew  _ he _ did this. This was Daryl. 

Without a second thought, you leapt forward again, taking down the walker in front of you. And then another. And then another. 

“Don’t let up!” You heard Rick shout from behind you. 

The others moved behind you, tearing their way through the last remaining ranks of walkers. You fought and you fought and you fought, taking down more of them then you could possibly count, making your way towards the front gate. 

And then you saw him. 

Daryl ran down the street with just a knife in his hand, shoving bodies towards the flaming lake, stabbing any that got too close to him. He pulled his arm back, wrenching the blade from one of them when he caught sight of you. 

Your eyes met from a hundred feet away, and you knew that  _ nothing _ was going to stop you. You slashed the machete through one more walker as Daryl took down two more in front of him, their fallen bodies the last on the street. 

You sprinted, your chest filling with relief as he ran towards you. You met in the middle, your machete hitting the ground as you embraced him. His arms wrapped tight around your waist, lifting you up off your feet. 

Daryl lowered you back down without breaking his grip. You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, your tears soaking into his vest. You breathed him in, smelling cigarettes, leather, and gasoline. 

You let out a breathless laugh, your suspicions about the pond confirmed. Daryl pulled back enough to look at you, tracking over every inch of your face. Unshed tears glimmered in his blue eyes, shining in darkness. Daryl leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, closing your eyes and reveling in the  _ feeling  _ of him. 

“I was afraid I lost ya,” Daryl whispered. “When I saw all of ‘em–” 

You shook your head, shushing him gently. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” You promised. “Last ones standing, remember? You and me.” 

“Me an’ you.” He repeated, his hands squeezing your hips like a lifeline. “Me an’ you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and you :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit!! This is the second to last chapter!! But it’s also my second most favorite, so I’m quite excited to see what you all think...👀 I await your comments eagerly! <3

“If I ever find him, I’m going to kill him.” 

Daryl shook his head, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Ya don’ even know what he looks like.” 

“His name was Dwight, right?” You steadied Daryl’s shoulder with one hand, pulling a stitch through the gash on his back with the other. “I bet he’s weasley-looking. Greasy and...annoying.”

Daryl huffed out a laugh at that, turning his head and trying to look at you. “Y’ain’t far off.” 

You smiled, lifting your hand from his shoulder long enough to grab his chin and turn his head forward again. 

“Sit still, please. I’m almost done.” You said, getting back to work. “You’re so much easier to treat when you’re unconscious.” 

Daryl chuckled, but did as he was told, staying still until you’d finished closing the wound and covered it with a bandage. 

Of course, Daryl being Daryl, he hadn’t bothered to mention his wound until at least an hour after you’d reunited. When you returned to the infirmary to check on Carl and handle the various injuries others had sustained from fighting the herd, Daryl stuck close by, as if unwilling to let you out of his sight. Not that you minded. 

He’d mentioned the knife wound as an afterthought as he explained why it took him and the others so long to return. You’d interrupted the story immediately, forcing him to sit down on the exam table and continue only once you’d started to patch him up. 

Outside, the sky slowly changed from black to deep murky blue to steely, and then blue of early morning daybreak. People were clearing bodies out of the street, piling them into trucks to be burned far away from Alexandria’s walls. A small group patrolled the break in the wall while Tobin and the other remaining members of the construction crew began preparing to rebuild. 

You finished with the stitches and covered the whole thing with a bandage. Without really thinking about it, you pressed a gentle kiss to Daryl’s shoulder, just above the bandage. 

“There,” You said, smiling as he turned to give you a surprised look. “All better.” 

“Thanks,” He murmured, hopping down from the table. 

“Anytime.” 

Silence settled between you, a strange feeling stretching from him to you as you stared at each other. Daryl’s expression was soft, thoughtful. It was the same as when he’d followed you in the barn on the night of the storm, the same as when he’d held you in the alleyway before Alexandria. Unspoken words hung in the air, filling the space between you with tension. 

Just  _ being  _ there, with him, made the trauma and worry of the past two days fade away for a while. You felt emotions fill your chest, warm and soft. 

_ Don’t wait to say how you feel. _

“Hey,” Denise appeared at your side, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Things have calmed down enough now, you should head home. You just pulled two all-nighters in a row.” 

Daryl frowned at that, brow furrowed as you glanced at him and then back at Denise. With the adrenaline gone, you  _ were  _ starting to feel the tiredness setting into your bones.

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, moving towards the door with Daryl close behind. 

You turned back at the last minute. “Denise?” 

She looked up. 

“You did it.” 

“Yeah,” She smiled back, pushing her glasses up. “ _ We _ did.” 

You and Daryl stepped out into the early morning, heading home. The air wasn’t as still as you’d expected–no reverential silence in the absence of the snarling cacophony the walkers had made. Instead, birds sang in the trees, distant conversations murmured, and a gentle breeze blew through, rustling the leaves. 

It felt like the early morning calm after the storm, when you’d sat with Daryl in the barn. The same tired ache in your bones, the same lightness of hope, but this time there was something else, too, warm and overwhelming. 

“Ya didn’ sleep?” Daryl rumbled, the question coming out more like a statement. 

“I couldn’t.” You shrugged, voice soft. “I was worried about you.” 

“Oh.” 

Daryl didn’t press on it further, accepting your small confession with a thoughtful expression. You’d reached the house by then, climbing the steps and passing through the front door. 

Carol was in the kitchen, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. Dirt and blood were smeared across her forehead and clothes. She set the cup down when she saw the two of you, rushing over. You watch her hug Daryl, smiling at the sisterly way Carol wrinkled her nose at him as she pulled away. 

“You stink.” She said. 

“Nice t’see ya too,” Daryl scoffed. 

Carol smiled, turning and pulling you into a hug too. You sighed, relaxing into the gentle protection of her embrace. You’d always seen her as a motherly figure– caring and  _ strong _ . You felt her head shift on your shoulder, and you knew she was looking at Daryl. As you pulled away from the hug, you saw him shaking his head at her, ears turning red. 

You looked between them as Carol walked back towards the kitchen. “What?” 

“Nothin’” Daryl cleared his throat. “Ya need t’get t’bed.” 

Carol took a sip of her tea, humming in a way that sounded like much more than just agreement. 

“C’mon,” Daryl nudged you towards the stairs. 

You were still confused, but too tired to protest. Upstairs, you each took turns in the shower, neither wanting to linger long without the other. You’d changed into a loose tee shirt and shorts and were sitting on the edge of the bed running a brush through your hair when Daryl came into the bedroom. He’d put on a clean flannel, dropping his vest over the back of a chair by the dresser. 

Daryl hovered in the middle of the floor, not quite looking at you. You knew he was remembering the last time you’d been together, alone like this. 

You were too. 

_ Don’t wait to say how you feel _ . 

“Daryl, I–” 

“I almost came back.” 

You stopped, blinking at him in surprise. “What?” 

“When it started.” Daryl admitted, looking down at the ground. “When th’herd broke off an’Rick said they were headin’ for home, I almost came back. Started to, anyways.” 

“You did?” 

“Y’were right.” He met your gaze, chewing on his lip. “When ya said all that stuff ‘bout me ‘fore I left. An’ then I knew ya were in danger an’ I–I needed t’make sure…” 

Daryl took a breath, “But Rick said comin’ back wouldn’t’ve been for ya. I woulda been doin’ it for me. An’ he was right, but–but th’thought a’ya gettin’ hurt–I can’t…”

“Daryl,” You breathed, your chest aching. “Come here.” 

He obeyed, closing the distance between you. You pulled him into an embrace, wrapping your arms around him. Daryl buried his face in your neck, letting out a shaky breath. 

“I’m right here. I’m okay.” You murmured. “We’re okay.” 

His arms wrapped around you then, pressing you tight against him like he was afraid you might disappear. His breath was warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You dropped your head to rest against his shoulder, revelling in the warmth and comfort of his touch, the incredible  _ safety _ of his embrace. 

“I can’t lose ya.” Daryl whispered, finally managing to get the words out. “I can’t.” 

You pulled back, making him look at you. Reaching up to brush his bangs away out of his eyes, you smiled softly. 

“You won’t.” 

Daryl stared at you, his eyes flickering between yours as he tried to believe you. You both knew it was an impossible promise to make. You couldn’t know what the future would bring for the two of you. 

But you felt it. Deep-set in your bones, you  _ felt _ it. And Daryl could see that, his expression vulnerable and open. 

He rubbed your arm gently, “Should get some sleep.” 

While you pulled back the covers and lay down, he got up to turn off the light. Daryl padded back over to the bed, slipping underneath the blankets and pulling you against his chest. You took a deep breath, already feeling sleep tugging at the corners of your mind, pulling you down. Everything was just  _ easier _ with Daryl. Warm emotions spread through you 

_ Don’t wait to say how you feel _ . 

Just before you drifted off into a gentle sea of dreams, you whispered the truth. 

“I love you.”

~

_ “Do you know what he said after that?” Beth grinned, cheeks flushed.  _

_ “What?” She giggled instead of answering, so you swatted her arm playfully. “Oh my God, tell me!”  _

_ “He said he thought I was the cutest girl in school.”  _

_ Beth squealed, burying her face in a pillow.  _

_ “Of course he did!” You grinned. “Look at you!”  _

_ “Stop it,” Beth rolled her eyes before giggling again. “But I am pretty cute. Rivalled only by you, pretty girl.”  _

_ “Ugh,” You flopped backwards on her bed. “I doubt any of Logan's friends would agree.”  _

_ “Yeah, well, they’re stupid anyway.” Beth dismissed. “Logan’s the only one with half a brain. That’s why I like him.”  _

_ “Oh, it’s his half a brain, now? I thought it was his luscious blonde locks and–”  _

_ “Shut up!” Beth laughed, throwing her pillow at you. “I like him for several reasons.”  _

_ “Okay, fine.” You pressed your lips together, holding back the rest of your teasing.  _

_ “You’re too mature for stupid high school boys.” Beth said, laying down next to him. “We should ignore them and plan for the future instead.”  _

_ “What?”  _

_ “You know, figure out what you like so you know what to look for in college and stuff.”  _

_ You laughed, “This sounds stupid.”  _

_ “Humor me, okay?”  _

_ “When do I do anything else?”  _

_ “Y/N!”  _

_ “Fine!” You relented. “Okay.”  _

_ “So,” Beth held up her hands, as if painting a picture on the ceiling. “Your ideal man.”  _

_ You did your best to hold in a laugh.  _

_ “Tall, average, or short?”  _

_ “Um, tall, I guess.” You said.  _

_ “Hair color?”  _

_ “I don’t really care…”  _

_ “Just pick one.” Beth insisted.  _

_ “Fine. Um, brown. Light brown.” You said.  _

_ “Hair length?”  _

_ “Short?”  _

_ “Eyes?”  _

_ “Hazel is nice.” You said, trying to build a picture in your mind.  _

_ “Job?”  _

_ “Well if I’m going to D.C., probably a lawyer or maybe a policy advisor or something. He’d have to be smart.”  _

_ “Good, okay.” Beth nodded. “Accent?”  _

_ You looked at her, incredulous. “Accent?”  _

_ “You know,” Beth intoned. “Do you want a guy from down here or up north? Or somewhere foreign? Ooh, like Italian or Spanish or something. Romance languages...”  _

_ “Beth, this is stupid.”  _

_ “Oh, come on! You were getting into it.”  _

_ “None of that stuff matters.” You argued. “It’s nice to imagine, I guess, but I can’t–I don’t have, like, a picture of the perfect guy in my head or anything. I just know I want somebody who loves me. Somebody good. A good heart.”  _

_ Beth groaned, “You’re no fun.”  _

_ “Well tell me, Bethy, is Logan your ‘ideal man?’”  _

_ “Ew, no.” Beth made a face, scrunching up her nose. “But he is pretty cute.”  _

_ You laughed, tossing Beth’s pillow back at her, hitting her in the face. Your less-than-serious conversation devolved into a very serious pillow fight after that. _

~

You woke up with thoughts of silly autumn afternoons drifting through your mind. Eyes still closed, you stretched out, reaching across the bed for Daryl. 

Your hand slid over an empty mattress. 

Blinking at the shafts of sunlight slanting through the breaks in the window blinds, you sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Sleepy confusion quickly gave way to realization as you remembered the moments right before you’d drifted off. 

You needed to talk to Daryl. 

Not bothering to change your clothes or even check your appearance, you padded out of the bedroom and downstairs. 

Carol, now showered and changed as well, stood in the kitchen with Maggie and Glenn, making dinner. As you opened your mouth to ask the question, Carol spoke. 

“He’s on the porch.” 

“Thanks,” You said, already moving to the front door. 

Daryl was sitting on the railing with his back against a column, one leg set on the porch floor while the other was bent, his knee drawn up to his chest. He turned his head at the sound of the door, glancing quickly away when he saw who it was. 

“Hey,” You said, walking over and leaning against the column across from him. 

Daryl grunted softly by way of greeting, staring resolutely down at his hands as he picked at the skin on the side of this thumb. 

“When did you get up?” 

“Never fell asleep.” He muttered. “Got outta bed an hour ago.” 

You hummed, looking out at the street. Silence stretched between you for a while. You could feel his agitation, the unvoiced feelings and questions bubbling up inside him. So you waited until he was ready. 

“Did’ya mean it?” 

You weren’t expecting that one. Eyes wide, you met his gaze. 

“ _ Yes. _ ” You said, taking a step closer to him. “Yes, I meant it. I mean it, Daryl. I love you.” 

Daryl stiffened as you said it again. 

“Ya can’t jus’–” He stood up, pacing away before turning back to look at you. “I don’ know how t’–” 

“It’s okay,” You held out your hands, “This doesn’t have to change anything with us. I just...I just needed you to know. You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to feel it.” 

“That’s not what I–” Daryl clenched his fists, letting out a frustrated growl. “I  _ do,  _ but I–I don’ think s’a good idea.” 

“What’s not a good idea?” 

“This.” He gestured between you. “Makin’ somethin’...more than–than–” 

“Daryl, this is already more than what we were. I  _ love you _ .” You said, moving closer to him as he stared at you. 

“M’not–m’not what ya want. M’jus’ some ol’redneck an’ yer–yer young an’ smart an’ yer supposed t’have somebody like...like Spencer, not–” 

“None of that matters!” You said. “None of it. I don’t want Spencer. I want  _ you _ . You’re my person, Daryl. Age doesn’t matter, our pasts don’t matter. All that matters is how we feel about each other.” 

Daryl was quiet for a moment and you  _ knew  _ he knew you were right. You knew he wanted to agree with you. He wanted to give in. 

And then he faltered again, letting the insecurities win. 

“But—”

You didn’t let him continue, grabbing his collar and pulling him forward. Daryl froze, the next excuse dying on his tongue as you pressed your lips to his. 

The kiss was short, just long enough for you to stop his spiral of doubt. You pulled back, meeting his shocked expression with a gentle smile. 

“I think  _ this _ is a great idea.” You said, gesturing between you as you stepped back. “But you think about it and let me know if you  _ really _ don’t want it.” 

You turned to walk back inside. You’d made it maybe two steps when Daryl snapped out of his daze. He surged forward, grabbing your wrist. Daryl pulled you back so fast you had to brace your hands on his chest to keep from slamming into him. Before you could blink, he had one hand on your hip and the other threaded into your hair as he kissed you. 

You’d been firm with yours, a solid peck on the lips to prove your point. But this...this was something else entirely. 

Daryl was determined, pressing you backwards slightly with the force of it. He poured everything he couldn’t say into the kiss, telling you everything you needed to know. You gripped the front of his shirt in your fists, pressing back with the same intensity. 

You separated for air, chests heaving as you stared at each other. His ears were bright red, and your cheeks felt hotter than a midsummer day in Georgia. Daryl bent his head, leaning his forehead against yours. 

Bringing your hands up from his chest, you wrapped your arms around his neck. You kissed him again, shifting closer to him. Daryl made a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a growl and a moan. You felt it vibrate through your body, setting every nerve on fire. He returned your kiss in earnest, his hands moving to your waist. His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, electrifying your skin as he dragged you as close as he possibly could. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind you broke both of you from your  _ blissful _ bubble. You stilled, a twinge of embarrassment lancing through your stomach at being caught making out on the porch like an impulsive teenager. 

Daryl kept his grip on your waist, keeping you from going anywhere as you hazarded a glance over your shoulder. Rick stood just past the doorway, hands on his hips and a huge grin on his face. 

“I was told to come get you for dinner,” Rick said, “But I see I’m interrupting...” 

“A little bit,” You said. 

“Hey, I’m just glad you two finally got your shit figured out. I think Michonne owes me at least two diaper changes for this.” 

You flushed, hiding your face in Daryl’s shoulder. 

“Man, shut up.” Daryl grumbled. 

Rick laughed, walking back inside and shutting the door behind him. You heard him say something you couldn’t quite make out. But you definitely heard the cheers that erupted afterwards. 

“Oh my God,” You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Daryl rubbed gentle circles into your side with his thumb. “Shoulda gotten in on that bet.” 

You laughed. “Could have cleaned house with those assholes.” 

“Don’ matter,” Daryl chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “We won anyways.” 

“Yeah,” You agreed, leaning up and kissing him softly. “We did.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention, all readers of A Good Influence:   
> Are you feeling sad at the prospect of the end of the story? Feeling robbed of Daryl’s perspective of events? Deprived of the long arc of their relationship beyond Alexandria? 
> 
> Well, have I got news for you! 
> 
> Introducing the Last Ones Standing Series by LadyLibby!!
> 
> Book One: A Good Influence (complete)
> 
> Series Overview: You and Beth Greene had always been inseparable, your bond only getting stronger as the world changes into something new and dangerous. But then, she was gone. Taken away from you before you could even say goodbye. Without her, surviving felt impossible– until you found yourself growing closer to a certain archer. With him, maybe, just maybe, you could learn to hope again.
> 
> Prequel: “Georgia Sky Eyes” (coming soon)
> 
> One-shot Summary: For as long as he could remember life for Daryl Dixon meant following Merle around, and more often than not, straight into trouble. The same time Merle walks out of his life, Daryl and his group stumble onto the Greene family farm, and he stumbles into you. Somehow, you ended up in the back of his mind, and he can’t seem to get rid of you. Not that he’d want to, anyway. (seasons 2-6 from Daryl’s POV)
> 
> Book Two: Last Ones Standing (currently in the works)
> 
> Series Overview: You’ve survived the Governor, traveling the road on your own Terminus, and Alexandria overrun with walkers, not to mention the deaths of the closest thing to family you’d had in a long time. You made it through, and found the person you care most about in the world on the other side. But none of that, absolutely none of it, could have prepared you for Negan. Now, in the aftermath of a war-- with your world expanded and completely redefined, you and Daryl have to find your way through. Somehow, you’re going to be the last ones standing.

_ “When morning came, for the first time in many months the fire was out, Jo’s place was empty, and the room was very still. But a bird sang blithely on a budding bough, close by, the snow-drops blossomed freshly over the placid face on the pillow– a face so full of painless peace that those who loved it best smiled through their tears, and thanked God that Beth was well at last.” _

You shut the book, gently brushing your fingers over the worn cover–tracing the illustration of four sisters smiling together. Tears stung behind your eyes, and you felt that familiar ache of loss in your chest as you gazed at the girl with blonde hair and a big smile. 

But you smiled too, letting another emotion rest within you, softening the ache. You leaned back in your chair, remembering. 

_ “There, all better.” You said, kissing Mika’s bruised knee.  _

_ She smiled, sniffling a little bit. “Thanks, Y/N.”  _

_ “Anytime,” You smiled as you stood up. “I’m here to fix the boo-boos.”  _

_ “She’ll be better at it than I am before too long.”  _

_ You looked up to see Hershel, his crutches clicking as he made his way out of the cell block.  _

_ “I don't know about that.” You laughed, shaking your head. _

_ Hershel settled at one of the metal picnic tables, propping his leg up. “Beth is lookin’ for you. Judith won’t stop fussing. Beth said something about a bedtime story…”  _

_ “Oh,” You nodded, “Beth and I have been reading to her.”  _

_ “Not those textbooks of yours, I hope.”  _

_ “No,” You smiled. “Some good old fashioned Lousia May Alcott.”  _

_ Hershel shook his head. “At this rate, she’ll have a better vocabulary than any of us.” _

_ “Certainly wouldn’t hurt.” You chuckled, heading inside.  _

_ Beth was in her cell, gently bouncing Judith on her hip. The baby wailed and cried, sucking on her chubby fist. It always seemed like Beth had an endless supply of patience when it came to looking after the youngest Grimes child, but you knew even she had her limits.  _

_ “Here,” You lifted Judith from Beth’s arms. _

_ “Thank you,” Beth intoned, pushing her disheveled hair away from her face. “She won’t go to sleep.”  _

_ “Well, let’s see what we can do about that, then, shall we?” You said, brushing away Judith’s tears with your finger.  _

_ You sat down on the bottom bunk, scooting back so your back was against the wall. You adjusted Judith so she lay against your chest, the back of her head cradled in your left hand. Once you were situated, Beth settled beside you, opening up the book between the two of you. Judith’s cries lowered to a whimper as she began to calm down.  _

_ “Okay, sunshine,” You said, “Time for Chapter Ten: ‘The P.C. and the P.O.’” _

_ Beth began the chapter, switching off with you every few paragraphs. You read all of Meg and Jo’s lines, along with any of Marmie’s appearances. Beth, of course, read for Beth and Amy, putting on a deeper voice for Laurie.  _

_ Even though they shared a name, you’d always thought your Beth was much more like Amy– full of life and ambition. Your Beth was kind and musical too, like Beth March, but she had so much more vibrancy of spirit.  _

_ Judith was asleep after about three pages, her cheek pressed against your shoulder. Beth shut the book, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the wall with a sigh.  _

_ “I know I say I want to be a mom someday but...Jesus, she’s exhausting sometimes.”  _

_ “Yeah,” You spoke softly, hoping not to wake her. “Go take a break for a while. See what Zach is up to.”  _

_ Beth blushed, shooting you a look. You just smiled.  _

_ “I’ve got her for a while. Go have some time to yourself.” You pressed. “Doctor’s orders.”  _

_ “You’re not even a real doctor.”  _

_ “Would you just shut up and go have some fun?”  _

_ “Okay, okay.” Beth laughed, scooting off the bed. “See you later, sister.”  _

_ “I’ll be here.”  _

_ Beth pushed aside the sheet hanging in front of the door, heading out into the cell block. You shifted slowly, laying back against Beth’s pillow with Judith still against your chest. You picked up the book again and were about to start reading yourself when movement in the doorway caught your attention.  _

_ Your eyes met the archer’s blue-eyed stare. “Hey...” _

_ Daryl hovered just outside the cell, gaze flickering between your face and Judith. “Heard ‘er cryin’.”  _

_ “Oh,” You glanced at the sleeping baby. “She was just tired.”  _

_ Daryl nodded, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he picked at the side of his thumb. You hadn’t seen much of him lately. Not that you’d talked a lot to begin with, but you’d been occupied by your new lessons with Dr. S.  _

_ And Daryl...he’d withdrawn. You knew Merle was dead. You knew that Daryl had found him turned and had to take him down. But that’s all you knew. That’s all he’d said.  _

_ You could imagine the pain of it, the heartbreaking loss of his brother. But you couldn’t begin to know what he was going through. You wanted to ask, feeling that same itch in your palms that you’d felt back at the farm–the desire to protect him.  _

_ But you weren’t sure how. So you held your tongue.  _

_ “Alright.” Daryl rumbled awkwardly, “Got watch in th’tower tonight, if...if anythin’ happens.”  _

_ You cocked your head, confused at why he was telling you that. “Okay.”  _

_ Daryl nodded stiffly again, turning around and walking away. You sat for a moment, replaying the strange interaction before shaking yourself out of it. You picked up the book again and started reading.  _

You stirred from the memory at the sound of Denise turning on the water at the sink. You sat up a little straighter, stretching as she filled the coffee pot and set it to brew. 

It was a slow day so far, which was good. No major disasters or near-death experiences to speak of. Just a walk-in from Esther and Harold in the morning more for socializing than any medical needs, and Maggie’s weekly check-up. 

Maggie didn’t really need to come in that often, but after the trauma of the wall coming down and almost losing Glenn, you wanted to keep an eye on her and make sure she was taking things easy. You didn’t want to have to choose between her or the baby. You wouldn’t let her end up like Lori. 

Outside, you heard the sound of a car horn. One short honk– signalling for the gate to be opened. 

Your head snapped up, gaze immediately drawn to the door. Denise didn’t even look up, chuckling as she fixed her cup of coffee. 

“Go on,” She said, shaking her head. 

“Thank you!” You called over your shoulder, already out the door and running down the street. 

Daryl and Aaron had been gone for five days, out looking for supplies and new members to join the community. They’d left in one car with just enough supplies to last for a week. But when you reached the gate, you saw an RV instead of the car. 

Aaron stepped out of the front of the RV, opening the side door and encouraging a woman and a man to step out and follow him towards Rick’s house. They didn’t hold your attention long, however, as the door opened again and a familiar leather vest came into view. 

“What happened? Did you trade in the car or something?” 

Daryl turned around at the sound of your voice.

“Somethin’ like that.” He shrugged, a rare smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He was a mess– his clothes stained with walker blood and his arms darkened by a layer of dirt and grime. For some reason, the sight made your chest fill with affection. It was just so  _ him _ . 

You bit your lip, moving closer until only an inch or two of space remained between the two of you. 

“Hi.” You said, giving him a coy smile. 

“Hey,” Daryl rumbled, his gaze flicking down to your lips. 

“That's all I get after five days?” You asked, adding a teasing lilt to your voice. “‘Hey?’”

“Nah,” Daryl ducked his head, his right hand finding the small of your back and dragging you closer. “That ain’t all.” 

“Good.” You reached up, cupping the sides of his face as you kissed him. 

Daryl’s left hand rose to cradle the back of your head, his fingers slipping into your hair as he kissed you back. 

“I missed you.” You murmured, pulling back and pressing your forehead to his. “Looks like the run went well, though.” 

“Yeah,” Daryl pulled back to look at the RV. “Got somethin’ for ya.” 

“Again? Daryl, you don’t have to keep doing that.” You pressed your hand to his chest. 

Daryl shook his head, “I want to.” 

“Okay,” you sighed, picking at a spot of dried blood on his shirt. “But why don’t you give it to me at home? Maybe after a nice shower…” 

Daryl scoffed, “Thought ya liked seein’ me covered in dirt. Said it’s more ‘us,’ whatever th’hell that means.” 

You ran your index finger along his arm, wiping off a bit of grime and studying it. 

“I was thinking I’d join you in the shower…” you mused, looking at him from behind your lashes. 

Daryl swallowed thickly, his eyes widening. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the look of sheer panic on his face. You took his hand in yours, squeezing gently. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You assured him. “But even if I did, it’s not all that different from what we do in the–” 

“Alright! Keep yer voice down.” Daryl’s ears were bright red. “Don’ need everybody knowin’ what we–what we, ya know…”

“Oh, I  _ know _ .” You grinned. 

Daryl’s cheeks turned a matching shade of red as he tightened his grip on your hand and took off down the street. You followed, biting your lip to keep from laughing. 

A few weeks ago, the two of you moved your (very few) belongings out of the big blue house and into one of the brownstone apartments. As you worked to define your relationship, you both wanted space, just the two of you, away from the others. Plus, it was closer to the infirmary, which helped in case of any emergencies that might crop up. 

Back home again, you made good on your promise– just a shower, nothing more. At least not  _ yet _ . No, you just wanted some time with Daryl, an opportunity to remind him how much he meant to you and show him how much you loved him. 

He was still self-conscious about his scars. At first, he’d been shy about  _ everything _ . But with some time and practice behind you, Daryl got more comfortable. 

But you knew his scars were another story. 

So you stripped down first, stepping under the hot water and waiting for him whenever he was ready. You could feel Daryl hesitating on the other side of the curtain for a moment, but you kept quiet, not wanting to pressure him. 

Finally, he joined you. His gaze raked over you for a moment, cheeks pink and eyes dark as he met your stare. Confidence flaring in your stomach, you stepped closer to him.

“Hi,” You smiled softly. 

Daryl swallowed, staring at you. “Hi.” 

His hands twitched at his sides, anticipation rolling off of him in waves. You pressed closer, reaching over his shoulder to grab the soap. 

You stepped back, holding it between you. “Can I...?” 

Daryl nodded, his posture still stiff. You were pretty sure he was holding his breath. You put your hand on his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

“Relax,” You whispered. “I’m going to take care of you.” 

He exhaled, his shoulders losing some of their tension. You smiled, starting to lather up the soap and spread it across his shoulders and down his arms. Taking your time, you massaged the sweet-scented substance into his skin, letting the warm water and your gentle touch relax his muscles. You continued, running your hands along his chest and stomach, washing away every bit of dirt and grime. 

You cupped his cheek, meeting his gaze. 

“Do you want me to do your back?” 

He thought for a moment, old insecurities flashing across his face before he settled on your eyes again and the trepidation melted away. 

“Okay.” 

You dropped your hand from his face, letting him turn slowly around. Your heart still ached at the sight, not out of pity, but out of anger. You wished you could make his father pay for hurting Daryl the way he did. But you couldn’t do that. 

You could only try to make it better. 

You touched his skin softly and he stiffened. You kept your hand where it was, unmoving, until Daryl took another breath and relaxed once more. With a light touch, you rubbed circles into his skin, softening the harsh lines of his scars. You waited until the water had washed the soap away. And then you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to each scar. 

Daryl’s breath came out in a shaky exhale. He turned around then, his hands finding your waist. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his jaw as you reached around him again. You exchanged soap for shampoo, popping the bottle open and squeezing a bit into your palm. 

You brought your hands to his hair, gently massaging the suds into his scalp. Daryl sighed softly at the sensation, closing his eyes. He tightened his grip on your waist. 

He squeezed his hands against your sides three times.

Your chest constricted, heart racing as you stopped to look at him. Searching his face, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the tenderness you found in his expression– the  _ love _ he’d just conveyed through his touch. 

Daryl kissed you, dragging you under the stream of water with him. You wrapped your arms around him, returning his emotion with equal passion. You explored each other fervently, movements urgent and intense. 

The water began to run cold, but neither of you cared. 

~

Both of you slept for a while, tangled up in each other among the sheets. The exhaustion of Daryl’s run finally caught up with him, and he was out like a light from the moment he had you in his arms and his head hit the pillow. You took a bit longer to drift off, closing your eyes as you let the warmth of his touch and the security of his presence lull you to sleep. 

When you woke up again, the afternoon was already waning– gentle golden light filtering through the bedroom window. 

You shifted, turning around in Daryl’s grasp to look at him. He looked younger as he slept, less troubled by the burdens of survival. You lifted your hand, brushing his hair out of his face. 

Daryl inhaled deeply, stirring from his slumber. He blinked at you, smiling softly as his gaze focused on your face. 

“Hey there, Dixon.” You whispered, tracing his cheek with your fingertips. 

Daryl hummed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he pulled you closer and buried his face in the crook of your neck. You carded your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp. 

“We should get up,” You said, without moving. “There’s a party at Rick’s tonight.” 

“We got time…” Daryl rasped, pressing a kiss just under your jaw. 

“Not enough for  _ that _ .” You hummed thoughtfully, your eyes fluttering closed.

Daryl didn’t respond, he just shifted so he was leaning above you as he continued his attentions on your neck and collarbone. 

You sighed, cupping his face and bringing him back up to look at you. “It’s Carl’s birthday dinner.” 

Daryl huffed, dropping his forehead onto your chest. “ _ Fine _ .” 

You chuckled, scooting down until you were face to face again. You kissed him softly, making sure he knew you loved him before slipping out from under him and getting out of bed. You padded over to the closet, looking for something to wear to dinner other than Daryl’s shirt you’d stolen after your shower. 

“Hang on,” Daryl rumbled, getting out of bed. 

You paused, the closet door half-open as you watched him walk out of the bedroom. He returned a moment later, carrying a bundle of cloth. As Daryl moved closer, he shook it out a bit and you realized what it was– a sundress.

Taking it from him, you ran your hands over the flowy fabric. You looked up at him, smiling widely. 

“It’s beautiful, Daryl.” You gave him a quick kiss, wrapping your arms around him.

You pulled back, moving over to the bed to change into it. After a few adjustments to the straps, the dress fit nicely, hugging in all the right places. Daryl sat on the edge of the mattress, watching you. 

“Thank you,” You grinned, rotating your hips to make the skirt swish. “It’s the same color as a dress I used to have at the farm.” 

“Reminded me a’that one.” Daryl said. 

You let out a little disbelieving laugh. “You remembered that?”

Daryl glanced away, ears turning pink. “Y’were wearin’t th’day we got there.”

Sitting down on the bed beside him smiling. “I didn’t think you noticed me back then.”

Daryl shrugged, staring down at his hands as he picked at the skin on the side of his thumb. 

“Beth was right,” You mused, feeling that ache in your chest again. 

Daryl looked at you, brow furrowed in confusion. 

“She picked out that dress for me. She said it brought out my beauty more than the stuff I picked.” You smiled sadly, “I think she felt bad that she got all the attention from boys. I didn’t mind though, I was...waiting for the right person.” 

Daryl was quiet, expression thoughtful as he took in your words. You reached over and took his hand, smiling softly. He met your gaze again, blue eyes piercing your heart as he squeezed your hand three times. 

~

Daryl slung his arm across the back of your chair. He was barely touching you, just playing with the ends of your hair. You didn’t think he was even  _ trying _ to distract you, but he is. 

Dinner was nice. Michonne and Carol made as much modified comfort food as they could– spaghetti and meatballs with shredded zucchini from the garden instead of pasta and acorn cookies for dessert. 

Rick made a toast in honor of Carl, who pretended to be embarrassed by it all when Enid was looking but smiled big and bright when he forgot to be a teenager for a while. Tara cracked jokes while Eugene tried to explain something about quantum mechanics. Glenn kissed Maggie on the head at least once every ten minutes, his hand resting gently against her stomach. Abraham set off on a loud and incredibly profane story about one of his old military buddies and you weren’t sure you should laugh or cringe. 

You’d been talking to Rosita about some movie you’d both seen at some point before the world fell apart when Daryl’s arm brushed the bare skin of your shoulders. Between that and the glass of wine you’d had earlier, you were having trouble keeping track of Rosita’s words. 

Energy fading steadily, you realized you wanted nothing more than to slip quietly away with your archer. Tara nudged Rosita in the side, drawing her into a debate with Eugene about something you didn’t have the capacity enough to remember. 

You leaned back against Daryl, resting your head on his shoulder as you whispered to him, “Take me home.” 

“Been waitin’ for ya t’ask.” He rumbled. 

On your way out, you stopped to flick the brim of Carl’s hat. 

“Hey, kid.” 

Carl rolled his eyes. “I thought we agreed you weren’t calling me that anymore.”

“Yeah,” You grinned, “But I couldn’t resist. Happy birthday, Carl.” 

“Thanks, Y/N.” He said, giving you a smile. 

On your way out the door, you caught Carol giving Daryl a pointed look which he pretended not to see. Other than that, no one really noticed you leaving. 

The night air was cool against your skin, refreshing and free after the close warmth of the party. Alone on the dark street, you reached over and took Daryl’s hand. You started towards the brownstone, but Daryl had a different idea. 

He nodded towards the center of town. “I wanna do somethin’ first.”

“Okay.” You tilted your head, but followed anyway. 

Daryl led you towards the pond, stopping as you reached the gazebo. 

“When y’were talkin’ ‘bout Beth before,” Daryl began, “Was thinkin’...thinkin’ that ya deserve more t’remember ‘er by. All those names’re up on th’wall or th’graveyard but she’s…” 

“She’s back in Georgia.” Your voice was small as you remembered the burial. 

“Right,” Daryl nodded, “Thought maybe this would be...be a good place t’come an’ remember ‘er.” 

He pulled his knife from his belt, holding the hilt towards you. You felt the ache in your chest again, a lump forming in your throat. But your tears weren’t borne out of sadness. Love filled your body, warm and all-encompassing. 

You took the knife from Daryl, steadying it with both hands. You carved her name into the painted red wood of the gazebo railing. Daryl took the knife gently from your grasp again, sheathing it as you ran your fingertips over the scarred wood. 

You brushed away your tears, turning to look at Daryl. He had that look in his eyes again, of deep untold emotion held carefully below the surface, waiting to be set free. You shifted closer, brushing his hair away from his face. 

“Thank you,” You whispered, leaning in and kissing him softly. 

His arms wrapped around your waist as he kissed you back with the same tenderness. You pulled back, letting your head rest against Daryl’s shoulder. 

“I love you.” 

Daryl dropped a kiss to the side of your head. His arms tightened around you, pulling you close. 

He didn’t need to say it back. 

You already knew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so so much for sticking with this story and for all the love and feedback you've sent me over the last few weeks. Your kind words mean so much to me. 
> 
> If the information at the top is of interest, definitely subscribe to the series and keep an eye out for the continuing parts in the near future! 
> 
> Love you all <3

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a comment below and tell me what you think! See you next week <3


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